Alone
by hbwgonnabe
Summary: Finished! A breakin leads to a missing person which leads each brother into a mystery of their own. New story not completely typed up yet so it will be about a week between postings.
1. Default Chapter

The blond-headed seventeen-year-old boy limped down the highway. His clothing torn and his skin scraped and bruised. He paused when he saw headlights approaching. He felt something crawling down the side of his face and reached up to swipe it away but his hand encountered something sticky.

He looked at his hand in the beam of the headlights. Blood. He wasn't surprised. Every inch of him hurt; especially his head.

The car came to a stop a few feet behind him. He turned and saw the car held three occupants: a man; a woman; and a teenage girl. He stood still and blinked a few times as if that would clear the cobwebs from his mind.

The driver's door opened and a large man with small black curls emerged. He was a full six foot five inches and weighed at least three hundred and twenty-five pounds. The driver looked at the boy closely.

"Do you need some help?" the man asked the boy in concern, taking in his disheveled appearance and abrasions. "Were you in an accident?"

The blond youth tried to answer but his throat didn't seem to be working. Instead, he just blinked at the man a couple of times. He tried once again to speak. His mouth opened but no words came out. Instead, he started blinking uncontrollably as he began to sway. Less than a minute later he would have fallen face down on the hard pavement had not the driver rushed forward and caught him. The boy felt strong arms surround him as everything faded to black.

When he awoke, he was lying in a twin bed with the woman from the car sitting in a chair beside him. She was asleep so he sat up quietly and looked around the room. It was a pale blue room with a darker blue for trim. There were navy blue curtains hanging on the only window, which was located on the wall directly in front of him.

Beside the bed was a computer desk and chair with a computer and several disks on top of it. A dresser and mirror stood against another wall with a large jam box sitting on top of it. There were a few posters of rock stars hanging on the walls, none of which he could put a name to at the moment.

His attention turned back to the woman in the chair by the bed when he heard her move her head. She was about forty years old with short black hair that was streaked with gray. She looked to be rather petite, weighing in at about ninety pounds and he would guess four foot ten when she stood.

As if sensing she was being stared out, her eyes fluttered open and her gaze briefly locked with his. She hurriedly sat up and leaned over to gently push him back onto the pillow.

"Easy," she said with a relieved smile. "You've had us all worried."

"I have?" Joe asked, confused. "Why?"

"You've been in a coma for almost twenty-four hours," she informed him. "We would have taken you to the hospital but it's a long drive and Roger didn't think you should travel that far."

"Roger?" he asked, not familiar with the name.

"My husband," she explained. "He's a doctor and I am a registered nurse," she continued. "So you are in good hands," she assured him.

"How's the patient?" boomed a voice from the doorway. In walked the man from the previous night. "Hello, young man," he continued. "I'm Dr. Fairbanks and this is my wife, Rachel. How are you feeling this afternoon?"

"Hungry," was the response the doctor received. "Where am I?"

"You are at our home in Cranton," the doctor informed him. "How many fingers am I holding up?" he asked holding up three fingers.

"Three."

"Very good," Dr. Fairbanks said and proceeded to give him a check up.

"Now, perhaps, you would be so kind as to tell us who you are and what happened to you?" Dr. Fairbanks said when he had finished. "I filed a report at police headquarters but no one has reported you missing and the police couldn't find any wrecked cars or motorcycles in the vicinity where we found you," he added.

"I..." the boy began but broke off and sat up quickly. "I don't remember," he said, his eyes filled with uncertainty even as his voice declared his anxiety.

"Calm down," Dr. Fairbanks ordered as his wife pushed the boy down once again.

"You've had a concussion and were in a coma for sometime. It isn't unusual for one's memory to regress after an ordeal such as the one you seem to have had."

"How long before it comes back?" the boy asked, calmer but still worried.

"It could be a day or two or longer," the doctor replied honestly. "The best thing to do is to relax and not try to force your memory to return."

"In the meantime, we have to give you a name," Rachel said, standing up. "What name do you like?" she asked, smiling.

"I don't know," he answered with a small shrug. Resignedly, he said the first name that popped into his head. "Joe?"

"Joe it is," she said, standing up. "I'll go fix you something to eat," she added before she left the room.

A few minutes later a young girl came into the room carrying a tray. "Spirit, this is Joe," Dr. Fairbanks introduced the two. "Joe will be staying with us for a little while," he added.

"No problem, Dad," Spirit said, her blue eyes kind as she looked at Joe. "Mom told me about his amnesia. Here," she said to Joe, setting the tray across his lap. "Mom fixed soup with jell-o for dessert. She said if you could handle this then you could have some real food for dinner," she added.

Joe smiled at her and said, "Thanks. I can't stay here," he added, looking back at Dr. Fairbanks. "It's too much of an inconvenience to you and your family."

"Don't be silly," Spirit answered for her father. "Where would you go? You don't even know who you are. Besides, with you here, I can honestly tell everyone a boy stayed all night in my room," she added mischievously.

"Spirit," Dr. Fairbanks reprimanded with a stern look on his face. To Joe he said, "She is right. Your memory will probably return in a few days or your family will be found. Either way, for now, the only other place for you would be the hospital and I prefer to only admit sick people," he added with a smile.

"Thank you," Joe said. "But I hate to have taken over Spirit's room."

"It's okay," Spirit assured him. "I'm bunking out in the loft. It's a great place but mom and dad don't want me to have it as my bedroom."

"Because you always try and peek when we wrap presents," stated Mrs. Fairbanks coming into the room. "Spirit, will you stay with Joe? The hospital just called and your father and I have to go."

"Sure," she readily agreed. After Dr. and Mrs. Fairbanks left, Spirit sat down in the chair her mother had occupied earlier.

Joe looked at Spirit's jet-black hair, fair skin and slender frame. He had a weird feeling of deja vu but couldn't think of why.

"Spirit is an unusual name," Joe commented. "How did your parents choose it?"

"They named me after the bar they met at," she told him, laughing. "It's unusual for a girl but I guess it would have been horrible if I had been a boy." She went on to tell Joe about her school and the town but he couldn't remember anything about himself. Soon, his eyes started drooping.

"I'm sorry," he said as a yawn escaped him.

"It's cool," she told him. "Get some sleep. Maybe when you wake up mom and dad will be back." Joe nodded and drifted off to sleep.

"That was fun," Frank Hardy said, walking over to where his parents were getting out of their car. He had just dropped his date, Callie Shaw, off at home after leaving the senior prom at Bayport High.

Fenton and Laura Hardy had been chaperones at the event and had left the school's gymnasium after all the students had departed.

"I just wish Joe could have gone," Frank added.

"He will get his turn next year," Fenton assured his son. Fenton stood an inch taller than his son's six foot one frame but his eyes and hair color were the same rich brown. Frank could easily see what he was going to look like when he got older.

"Too bad Iola is spending this weekend with her cousin in New York," said Laura, using her right hand to move a stray lock of blond hair form her blue eyes.

Iola Morton was Joe's sixteen-year-old girlfriend. Since she had left town, Joe had decided to just hang around the house while the rest of his family went to the prom.

Fenton put his key in the lock and opened the door. Stepping inside he flipped the switch.

"Joe must have gone to bed," commented Laura, following her husband inside.

"Wait!" hissed Fenton, catching his wife's arm and stopping her from going in any further. "Go to the car and use the cell to alert the police," he ordered her.

As she left, Fenton signaled to Frank to search downstairs while he went upstairs. Frank went through every room on the main floor and, finding nothing amiss, headed upstairs where he found his father in his office.

The place had been torn apart. The chair behind his desk was lying on it's back and the two chairs which normally set in front of the desk were both broken. Papers were scattered everywhere and the computer lay in a broken heap near the opened file cabinets.

"Joe's gone," Fenton told Frank in a strained voice. He held up a golden chain that Iola had given Joe for his last birthday that he never took off.


	2. Chapter Two

Alone Chapter Two by hbwgonnabe "We've found a few prints in your office," Officer Matthews informed Fenton almost an hour later. "We will see if we can match them up."

"What about Joe?" asked Laura fearfully.

"It looks like they have taken him with them," the officer answered her. "There are signs of a struggle but we've found no blood," he added, trying to alleviate some of her fear.

"Keep me posted," Fenton ordered the officer before he left the house. "Frank," he said, turning to his eldest son. "I'm going to call the F.B.I. and see if any old enemies have been released or escaped from prison lately. I want you to go over this place and see if you can find anything that the police may have missed."

An hour later, Fenton still had no leads as to whom had broken in and kidnapped Joe. "Dad!" Frank shouted from the hallway.

Fenton hurried out of his office to see what Frank had found. "What is it?" demanded Laura as she met up with Frank and Fenton in the hallway.

"It's a key ring," Frank replied, holding up a silver key ring with a broken connector. The initials RT were inscribed on one side. "It was under Joe's bed," Frank informed his parents. "So was this," he added, handing his father a scrap of paper that he had found stuck to a leg on Joe's bed.

"It's part of one of my files," Fenton said, looking at it. "I believe it's a part of Tandem's file," he added, glancing fearfully at the key ring in Frank's hand.

"Who is Tandem? Is he out of prison? What did you get him for?" Frank fired off his questions.

"Ralph Tandem was a scientist who specialized in genetic engineering," Mr. Hardy stated. "He was fired and criminal charges were brought against him when it was discovered he had been experimenting on teenage boys."

"What?" gasped Laura. "You think that's why he took Joe?"

"I doubt it," he told her but Frank could tell the thought had obviously crossed his father's mind. "Joe probably caught him breaking in and he and his men took Joe as a hostage." That wouldn't explain why the paper and key ring had been found under Joe's bed but he hoped Laura would not pick up on that.

"He escaped?" asked Frank.

"He was never caught," Fenton stated. "He vanished two years ago and no one has seen or heard about him since."

"Until now," Frank amended his dad's words. "Why would Tandem want your file on him?"

"It contained information on his former associates, Dr. Paul Michaels and Sarah Jameson. Sarah was the one who discovered what he was up to and reported him. She and Paul were as far into genetic research as Tandem, but they refused to work on people."

"So Tandem may have taken his file to see where the others live or what they are working on now," Frank surmised, frowning. "And that means we start our search for Tandem by finding Sarah and Paul."

Later that evening Fenton walked into the living room where Frank and Laura were sitting while they waited for news from Fenton's search. "Well?" Frank demanded, getting to his feet.

"Sarah is working at Dulcity Labs in Ashton, North Carolina," Fenton told his son. "Paul died in a car crash two months ago."

"So we go to North Carolina," Frank stated.

"I've called Jack," Fenton said, mentioning the name of his friend and pilot, Jack Wayne, who owned and operated his own flight service in Bayport. "He is going to fly you to Greensboro, North Carolina where you will need to rent a car and drive to Ashton. An informer let the NYPD know Tandem was hiding out in an apartment on the west side. I'm going there to check it out. Keep in touch," he ordered Frank.

Frank nodded his consent then went upstairs to pack. When he came back down his father had already left. Frank headed out the door, stopping as the phone rang. "I've got it!" he called out to his mother. 

"Hardy residence?" he answered on the second ring.

"Good morning!" came the bright, cheerful voice of his girlfriend. Frank looked out the window and saw the sun shining bright. They had been up all night worrying about Joe. "How would you and Joe like to go to the beach?" she asked.

"Can't," Frank replied tersely. He then told Callie about Joe's kidnapping.

"Is there anything I can do?" Callie asked when Frank had finished.

"Could you come over and coax mom into getting some rest?" he requested. "She's still sitting in the living room"

"I'll be right over," Callie promised at once.

"Mom," Frank said, poking his head around the corner. "Callie is coming over to stay a bit."

"Good," Laura said with a slight curve to her lips. She approved of, and got along with, both of her sons' girlfriends.

"There goes Hardy's other kid," observed a balding man from behind the wheel of a blue sedan. "Should we grab him?"

"No," denied a muscular man with a thick Mexican accent. His greasy black hair fell across his face as he shook his head. "I listened in at the window. They haven't found the other kid yet. Maybe we won't have to deal with Hardy after all."

"Should I follow him anyway?" asked the driver, lifting one bushy brow at his partner.

"No," replied the Mexican for a second time. "We know where he is going. Let's get in touch with Tandem and see what he wants us to do."

"Hey, Frank!" shouted chubby, blond headed Chet Morton as he came running up to Frank at the airport.

"What are you doing here?" Frank asked, looking at his seventeen-year-old friend in surprise.

"Callie called this morning and told me about Joe," Chet explained. "Dad said I could help you find him."

Frank smiled at his best friend since first grade. Chet had helped him and Joe solve more than a few mysteries and he knew he could count on Chet when the going got rough. "I'm glad you could come," Frank said. "Jack's got the plane ready," he added, leading the way to Jack's patch of the airstrip.

"What leads have you got?" Chet asked as they walked along.

Frank told him about Tandem and Sarah Jameson. "Do you think Tandem's going to experiment on Joe?" asked Chet, gulping fearfully.

"Not if I can help it!" vowed Frank, terrified that was why Joe had been taken. His being home when Tandem broke in may have been a fluke but he couldn't see someone like Tandem passing up the opportunity to acquire a new guinea pig. "Joe does fit the criteria though."

"What criteria?" asked Chet.

"Blond hair; blue eyes; athletic and intelligent," Frank answered. "Tandem was trying to isolate certain genes that could produce all four attributes in one individual."

"Why?"

"The perfect male," Frank responded. "Fast, smart, and good looking enough to be the ultimate spy."

"Joe's not that good," Chet protested.

"No one is," agreed Frank. "But if the gene, or genes, could be isolated, then it, or they, could be mutated to create such an individual."

"But that kind of research is expensive," Chet argued. "Who would pay for it?"

"Any country would pay if it meant results," Frank told him. "And besides," he added. "Since Tandem isn't allowed to work on this legitimately, he is probably stealing the supplies he needs." Frank stopped and snapped his fingers. "Why didn't we think of that?" he berated himself. He pulled out his cell phone and started dialing a number. "I'll meet you at the plane," Frank told Chet. Chet took Frank's bag and walked away as Frank began talking.

"Hi," Jack greeted Frank as he caught up with Chet at the front of the plane a couple of minutes later.

"Hello," Frank greeted his tall, dark haired friend. Jack Wayne had been a friend of the Hardys for over ten years. Ever since Mr. Hardy had become a private investigator and decided he needed a personal pilot he could depend on.

"I'm sorry about Joe," Jack continued. "Your dad filled me in so I called a friend of mine in Greensboro. He's promised to have you a car waiting and take care of your hotel accommodations in Ashton."

"That's great! Thanks," Frank replied. "Are we ready for take off?"

"Climb in," Jack told him and Chet. The three climbed aboard the small craft and soon they were in the air.

"Who did you call?" asked Chet once they were in the air.

"Sam Radley," Frank answered, naming an associate of his father's. "I asked him to see if he could find out if any items related to genetics have gone missing and if so, where."

"I get it," Chet said. "Tandem probably wouldn't be too far away from where the items are missing." Frank nodded.

Not much later the plane touched down at the Greensboro airport. Jack had to return to Bayport so he wished the boys luck and began making arrangements to have his plane refueled as Frank and Chet entered the airport to find Jack's friend.

It was going on four o'clock by the time they reached the Inn in Ashton where they had reservations. After filling out a small form they took their bags and rode up the elevator to the third floor. "Let's get something to eat," suggested Chet setting his bag down on his bed.

Frank looked at his friend who was always hungry and smiled. "Okay," he agreed. "It has been a long time since breakfast." And even longer since dinner last night, he realized. He had been too upset to even think about eating after he had arrived home the previous night.

"I think we passed a burger place on the way in," Frank said. "Why don't we grab a quick bite and then I will see about finding Ms. Jameson."

At a quarter after five Frank looked up the Dulcity Labs number in the phone book and put in a call. "May I speak with Dr. Jameson, please?" he asked the man who answered.

"Who is this?" inquired the man.

"My name is Frank Hardy," Frank replied. "I'm calling concerning a case my father was working on with Dr. Jameson a couple of years ago."

"Just a minute," the man said.

"Hello," came a female voice through the receiver less than a minute later.

"Dr. Jameson, my name is Frank Hardy. I was wondering if I could meet with you and discuss Ralph Tandem."

"Why?" Sarah asked. "I haven't seen or heard from him for going on two years."

"He broke into our house last night and took his file," Frank informed her. "We think he might be looking for you."

Silence met his remark.

"Please?" he begged. "Tandem also kidnapped my brother. You are our only lead."

Frank heard a deep sigh. "All right," Sarah agreed. "Where are you now?"

"I'm at The Brayson Inn in Ashton," Frank answered.

"Okay. I will meet you at the corner of 321 and 421," she said, naming two highways that intersected in Ashton. "I kind of live in the middle of nowhere so you will have to follow me home. It's best if we talk somewhere in private." They agreed on a time and then hung up.

"Chet," Frank said, turning to look at his friend. "I think I had better meet her alone. Could you see if Tandem has been seen around here?" He pulled out a picture of Tandem that had been taken two years previously and handed it to his friend. 

"Sure thing," agreed Chet at once. 

"I've got some time before I meet Sarah so I'm going to go to the police station and see if they have been notified of Joe's disappearance or have heard anything about Tandem."

Chet left first, walking since everything seemed so close. Frank was on his way out of the room when the phone rang. Expecting it to be Sam or his mother he rushed over and grabbed it before the second ring.

"Hello?" he answered.

"Frank, right?" asked an unfamiliar voice on the other end. "Stay away from Dr. Jameson or you won't live to see the sun rise." 


	3. Chapter Three

"Find him!" Tandem ordered his men. "His body hasn't been found yet or else they wouldn't think we still had him." 

"But he's dead," argued the greasy haired Mexican. "He fell from the copter. What good is he?" Carlos insisted.

"I can still get specimens from him," Tandem pointed out. "Besides, if Hardy thinks we have his son then we can keep him off our backs," he added. "But if Hardy finds out the kid's dead, then there will be no stopping him."

"Frank got in touch with Jameson," a third man entered the conversation. He was tall and thin with graying hair and wore a three-piece suit. He looked quite comfortable sitting on a kitchen chair that had been turned backwards so he could rest his arms, crossed, on the back. "I gave him a warning," he added.

"Honestly, Jeffery," Tandem said with disgust. "Do you believe a warning will stop him?"

"No," Jeffery responded with a malicious smile. "But I do feel obligated to tell someone when I plan on killing them."

"You are a sick man," said the Mexican's partner, David. "Why not just do it?"

"It's more fun to play," Jeffery answered.

"Whatever," Tandem replied. "But remember, kill him and it will be the same as if Hardy found Joe's body."

"Relax," Jeffery said, putting Tandem's mind at ease. "Accidents do happen."

The next time Joe awoke, he was alone. The room was bathed in darkness save for the glow that emanated through the open door. Joe sat up slowly and put his feet on the floor. A robe lay on the chair occupied by Mrs. Fairbanks earlier and he reached for it before standing up.

Big mistake! thought Joe as everything began spinning. He sank back to the bed and put his hand to his head as he closed his eyes.

"I thought I heard you moving about," Spirit said, entering the room. "Are you okay?" she asked, noting how much paler he looked than before.

"Yeah," Joe answered, putting his hand down and looking at her with a wan smile. "I think I was just moving too fast too soon."

"Naughty, naughty," Spirit told him, rubbing one finger across another as she pointed at him. "You should stay in bed."

"I need to...u..um," he broke off, embarrassed.

"Oh..well, I can help you there," Spirit told him moving to his side. "Forget the robe," she said, taking it from him and tossing it back to the chair Joe had taken it from. "It will just hamper our progress," she added, wrapping an arm around him just below his shoulders.

"I can't believe your folks left me alone with you," Joe said as he limped out of the room and down the hall to the bathroom with Spirit's help.

"Like you're a big threat?" she scoffed, grinning at him. "You can barely stand."

"I could have been faking it," Joe argued.

"No, you couldn't," Spirit disagreed. "You were in really bad shape when we found you. Dad was almost ready to risk moving you but then you started getting better. And besides, I'm a black belt," she added.

By the time Joe had finished and made his way back to bed with Spirit's help, he was wiped out. He closed his eyes as his head hit the pillow and was sleeping soundly as Spirit covered him up.

Frank hung up smiling. If he was getting death threats then he was on the right track. Tandem, or at lest one of his cronies, had to be here and that meant Joe probably was as well. He left the room and raced to catch the elevator before the doors closed.

After getting directions at the front desk, Frank exited the hotel and climbed in the car, grateful Chet had opted to walk. In less than ten minutes he pulled into the parking lot of the police department. The officer at the front window looked at Frank expectantly, his black eyebrows dark against the white of his face and freshly shaved head. "Is there something I can help you with?" he asked.

Frank looked at the tag on his uniform. "Sergeant Dryer," he said, looking back at the man's face and into his brown eyes. "My name is Frank Hardy. I'm in town looking for Ralph Tandem."

"Have you tried the phone book?" the officer inquired.

"Actually, he's a wanted felon," Frank said, frowning. Obviously, the police here knew nothing about the case.

"Then why are you looking for him?" Dryer asked, looking at the teen suspiciously.

"My name is Frank Hardy," Frank introduced himself. "My father is Fenton Hardy," he continued. "He was working on a case-involving Tandem two years ago before he disappeared."

"Then why start again now?" Dryer asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Because we have reason to believe Tandem broke into our house last night and abducted my brother," Frank answered. "I can't believe you haven't received a report on this," he added with a frown.

"Calm down," Dryer ordered. "There may be one. I just came on duty. Let me check." He spent a few minutes looking over the latest bulletins. "Ah here we go," he said, looking back up at Frank. "You really think this Tandem guy is here?"

"I'm sure of it," Frank replied and told him about the warning he had just received.

"Take a seat," Dryer instructed Frank. "Someone will be with you in a bit," he added, picking up the phone on his desk and punching in an extension.

Five minutes later a door opened and an officer with short, curly brown hair and green eyes motioned for Frank to join him. Frank followed him back past an empty conference room to a corner office with the name Mark Wisenthol on the door.

"Have a seat," Detective Sergeant Wisenthol instructed Frank. Frank sat down in the solitary chair in front of the desk as Wisenthol took the chair behind the desk. "Now, tell me everything you can about Ralph Tandem."

Frank filled him in in what he knew. "Let me ask you something," Wisenthol said when Frank had finished. "Do you think Tandem is hiding out in this area?"

"I don't know," Frank admitted. "But I do know someone working for him is here so it's a good bet he is."

"Your father must have a lot of confidence in you to have placed you in charge of this investigation," Wisenthol commented.

"I'm not in charge," Frank corrected him. "My father is. He's following up on a different lead."

"And you want us to arrange for you to question Ms. Jameson?" Wisenthol inquired.

"No. I have already arranged a meeting with her," Frank informed him. "What I need is a list of the most probable locations for someone to set up a private lab in the area."

"You have never been in this area before, have you?" Wisenthol asked, leaning back in his chair and looking at Frank thoughtfully.

"No," Frank answered, looking at the sergeant curiously.

"You drove in from Greensboro, right?" Wisenthol asked. Frank nodded. "Tell me," Wisenthol continued. "What did you see?"

"A lot of curves, hills and trees," Frank answered.

"And a lot of territory not easily accessible even by helicopter," Wisenthol added. "There are countless areas where Tandem could set up shop here. Not to mention that this area has its fair share of caves that he could conceivable convert into a makeshift lab. Also, if he has been in hiding here for the time he has been missing then he may have set up a new identity."

"You could..." Frank began but Wisenthol shook his head.

"This is a growing town," Wisenthol continued. "Our population has almost doubled in the past ten years." Frank's face fell. "But I will issue a BOLO for Tandem."

"Thank you," Frank said, standing up and shaking the detective's hand.

"If you need anything, let me know," offered Wisenthol.

"I will, thank you," Frank said again before leaving.

When Frank returned to the hotel room he found Chet had beaten him back. "Any luck?" asked Frank, quirking an eyebrow at his friend.

"No," answered Chet with a scowl. "And walking around here isn't such a good idea," he continued. "Most of the hills here are like the steepest ones back home. How about you?"

"I'm meeting Sarah later," Frank informed him. "And the police can't help with finding Tandem although they are going to issue a BOLO for him."

"What's a BOLO?" inquired Chet.

"It stands for be on the lookout," explained Frank. "It's one step down from an all points bulletin."

"When are you meeting Sarah?" asked Chet.

"In another hour," replied Frank after checking his watch. "Just enough time for a shower."

Joe opened his eyes and sat up. Unlike the last time, he felt no dizziness. The door was open but all was quiet and he wondered if perhaps Spirit had gone to bed. He got slowly to his feet and picked up the robe from the chair. Putting it on, he went to the doorway and listened. He could hear Dr. Fairbanks talking, but the voice was so quiet he couldn't make out the words.

He followed the sound to the end of the hall where he gazed warily down a set of stairs. Someone else was speaking now and although Joe still couldn't make out the words, the tone was unmistakable. Joe grabbed the railing and slowly went down the stairs. He followed the voices until he was standing just outside of the spacious living room.

"Your troubles are just beginning," snarled a man dressed in a heavy plaid shirt wearing dirty, faded blue-jeans. "Just sign the papers and save yourself, and your family, a whole heap of problems."


	4. Chapter Four

Alone Chapter Four by hbwgonnabe "How dare you threaten me?" Dr. Fairbanks retorted, taking a deep breath and making him look even bigger than he actually was. "I will not sign those reports. I didn't write them and your boss refuses to let me even read them."

"He told you what they said," the man retorted.

"And I'm supposed to believe him when he has people like you working for him?" Fairbanks demanded.

"You don't know what you're getting into," Fairbanks was warned.

"Not as much as you are," commented Joe, entering the room. He had heard enough. He didn't know what was going on but the Fairbanks had been nice to him and he wasn't going to just stand there and let some lumberjack threaten them. "You've said your piece and gotten your answer, now get out of here before I throw you out."

"Who are you?" the stranger demanded, staring at Joe through sharp brown eyes.

"Doesn't matter," returned Joe. "Now leave."

"When I'm good and ready," the man declared, the top of his head turning red with anger and showing through his thinning black hair. 

Joe moved closer to the man who decided Joe was close enough. He raised his arm, his hand clenched tight into a fist, and swung at Joe but Joe ducked the blow, grabbed the flailing arm and tugged. The man was pulled forward and Joe turned him as he came, twisting the arm up and back until the unwelcome visitor was wincing in pain.

"The door?" Joe asked, looking at a stunned Dr. Fairbanks.

The doctor pulled himself together and led the way to the front door and opened it. Joe steered the lumberjack to the door and gave a huge shove that, had Joe been in better condition, would have put the man face down on the ground but in his current state merely propelled him a few feet into the night air.

"This ain't over," the man snarled, glaring first at Joe and then at Fairbanks who was standing behind Joe with one hand on his shoulder.

"For your sake, it had better be," Joe replied, trying hard to stay upright. He refused to let this intruder see how weak he really was.

"Tell Farkas to find someone else to do his dirty work," Dr. Fairbanks told the man before steering Joe back inside the house and closing the door.

"And you!" Fairbanks declared roughly, turning Joe to face him and scowling. "Why aren't you in bed?"

"Dad! Don't pick on him," scolded Spirit, rushing to Joe's side. "He's sick."

"Actually, I'm feeling a lot better," Joe said, looking at Spirit and smiling at her.

"But you are still too weak to be wandering around let alone taking on people like John Phipps," Dr. Fairbanks stated firmly, wrapping an arm around Joe's waist when he saw him start to sway.

"Back into bed with you and I will bring you some dinner," ordered Rachel Fairbanks. 

"Yes, ma'am," Joe agreed. "Thank you. But do you mind if I ask what that was about?"

"Since you've made an enemy, I suppose I had better tell you," Roger agreed. "But not until you are horizontal."

"Spirit, help me with dinner," Rachel requested as her husband guided Joe out of the living room.

Once Joe was back in bed, Roger sat down in the chair and frowned as he thought about where to start. "Benjamin Farkas owns most of the land hereabouts," he said after a couple of minutes. "He started selling out the lumber from the north west section of the county about a year ago."

"What's wrong with that?" asked Joe. "He can't do but so much because of the laws regulating lumberjacking."

"True," agreed Roger. "But that's not the problem."

"Oh?"

"About five months ago, one of the lumberjacks got sick. It started out with just an upset stomach and fever but two days after that he was losing hair and his skin was getting pale. Three days more and he was dead. Two weeks later two more men got sick and died. There have been five more deaths since with the last one dying about a week ago."

"And what does Farkas want you to sign?" asked Joe.

"Medical reports for the victims," Roger informed him. "I called the CDC after the third victim fell ill and someone there contacted Farkas. He managed to convince them that the first two men had died of natural causes and the third from an accident. But he knows he can't keep hiding the problem. He wants me to sign a prepared report that lies about the cause behind the illness and states the disease is not a dangerous contagion. Of course, I'm only guessing what the report says because he has refused to let me read it."

"Something doesn't sound right," Joe said. "If it's a natural contagion, then why aren't more people coming down with it?"

"I don't think it's airborne," Roger said, looking at Joe curiously. "It's most likely consumed."

"What about testing?" asked Joe. "Won't Farkas allow water samples?"

Dr. Fairbanks shook his head. "He won't allow anyone who doesn't work for him in the area."

"Is he doing any mining?" asked Joe.

"No. Why do you ask?"

"I'll admit I'm no doctor but the symptoms you described sound a lot like radiation poisoning," Joe stated.

Fairbanks shook his head. "The heartbeat; the stomach upset..."

"Could be symptoms associated with a bad heart or indigestion," Joe put in. "Besides, that guy..."

"Phipps," Roger supplied the name.

"Right. Phipps. He was dressed like a lumberjack but there wasn't a single grass stain on him. Not even the smell of pine. He was dirty but it wasn't topsoil covering him," Joe asserted.

"You're very observant," Dr. Fairbanks said as he considered what Joe said. "And you could be right. I will have to look at the files of the first three victims again. I just wish I could get my hands on the others."

"Who handled the other victims?" asked Joe as Rachel and Spirit entered the room.

"Dr. Donovan," Roger answered. "His office is just off the main thoroughfare."

"And he won't let you see the files?"

Roger shook his head. "He's been very distant since he started working for Farkas. Donovan handles all of the emergencies and physicals for Farkas now," he explained.

"Does he take new patients?" queried Joe.

"In a town this size?" asked the doctor, raising his eyebrows. "Who wouldn't? Why?"

"Because if I can get inside, I could probably get a chance to look at the files," said Joe thoughtfully. "I could at least check the symptoms of the other victims to see if the ones you treated were the norm."

"You sound like a detective or something," Spirit said, setting a tray across Joe's lap.

Joe shrugged and blushed. "Maybe I read a lot of mysteries," he suggested. 


	5. Chapter Five

Alone Chapter Five by hbwgonnabe "Frank?" asked a young woman from behind the wheel of a burgundy Subaru Legacy.

"Ms. Jameson?" returned Frank, straightening up. He had been leaning against the door of his rental for over ten minutes.

"That's right," Sarah replied. "Can I see some identification, please?" she requested, her brown eyes watching him warily.

"Of course," agreed Frank at once. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. Removing his driver's license, he handed it to her.

"Thanks," Sarah said, handing it back to Frank a minute later. "You do favor your father but it's been awhile since I've seen him and I had to be sure."

"I understand," said Frank.

"Okay," Sarah said. "Just follow me."

"Will do," Frank promised the freckled redhead and climbed back into his car.

Frank followed the burgundy Subaru out of town. Before too long it turned onto a paved side road and then another and less than a mile later Sarah led him onto yet another road. This last road led right to the Blue Ridge Parkway. They drove for five miles heading south before making another turn and heading east. By the time the Subaru came to a stop in the drive of a rustic looking cabin they had driven thirty miles and made so many turns that Frank was almost afraid he would forget his way back.

"How do you get out of here in the snow?" Frank demanded incredulously, getting out of the car and walking over to meet her.

"Some days, we can't," Sarah admitted with a grin. "But mostly, we just park at the foot of the hill and walk up. The D.O.T. is pretty good about doing the state roads."

Frank looked back. The foot of the hill was a good mile away. "Come on in," Sarah invited him. "Ben's already home."

"Ben?"

"My husband," Sarah answered. "He works at the university."

"Hi, Babe," a man with short graying hair greeted Sarah as she entered the house. "And who have we here?" he asked, seeing the young man who accompanied his wife.

"Ben, this is Frank Hardy," Sarah introduced the two. "He wants to ask me some questions about Ralph Tandem."

"Why?" demanded Ben, his brown eyes hardening as they bored into Frank. "That association ended a long time ago."

"He's back," Sarah informed her husband. "And he's kidnapped a boy."

"To experiment on?" Ben asked in horror.

"My brother," Frank put in, causing Ben to look at him with pity.

"Come on into the living room," Sarah said. "We'll talk where we can be comfortable," she added, kicking off her shoes by the doorway.

Ben caught Frank's eye and grinned. He shook his head and followed Sarah from the room still wearing his shoes. Once they had been seated, Frank leaned forward and looked Sarah in the eyes. "I need to know everything you can remember about Tandem."

"He was a charming man," Sarah informed Frank. "Tall with wavy black hair and green eyes that sparkled when he talked about things that interested him. You could always tell when his mind was elsewhere because his eyes were a bit dimmer and the crease between his eyes at his nose would get deeper."

"You remember him well," Ben commented with a frown.

"He's hard to forget," Sarah told him with a pained expression. "Especially after he went crazy."

"You mean his wanting to experiment on people?" Frank asked for clarification.

"Actually, he started getting weird before that," Sarah replied with a shake of her head. "For that matter, he may always have been off. See, he never liked any blond-headed teens that I can remember," she explained. "Ken and Charlie were Dr. Dillman's sons and they came by the lab frequently."

"Dr. Dillman?" Frank couldn't recall his father mentioning the name.

"He wasn't in our research area but the boys were interested in genetics and that's why they kept coming around," Sarah informed him. "Anyway, Ralph refused to answer any of their questions and was out and out rude to them. He always looked at them with disgust."

"Maybe he just didn't like Dillman," suggested Ben.

"That wasn't it," Sarah denied. "Occasionally, we would all have dinner together. He had the same look on his face every time he saw a good-looking blond headed teen. Paul, Dr. Michaels, once said he bet Ralph had been picked on by some blond jocks when he was in high school."

"As sensitive as you've told me he was, that hypothesis does have some merit," Ben put in thoughtfully. He had been privy to more than a few words on the man through the years.

"That could be why he chose to make blond teens his victims," agreed Frank. "What else do you remember about him? Did he have any hobbies? Did you meet any of his friends? Was there someone special in his life?"

"He was pretty much a loner," Sarah replied thoughtfully. "His only interest seemed to be the project, so no, I'd say he didn't have any hobbies. Addictions, maybe."

"Oh?" queried Frank with interest.

"He always had a small bag filled with peanuts," Sarah said. "He refused to eat them unless he shelled them himself."

"Do you think he will try and contact Sarah?" Ben asked Frank.

"It's a possibility," Frank concurred. "But since she testified against him..."

"She could be in danger," Ben finished for him. "That's it," Ben stated decisively, glaring at his wife as if defying her to argue. "We're going on that vacation now. I'll call the dean and tell him I need a replacement and you can call your boss."

"All right," Sarah agreed. She had no desire to meet Tandem again. 

"We'll be gone for three weeks," Ben told Frank. "I sure as heck hope you can find Tandem before we have to return."

"So do I," Frank agreed with the man. 


	6. Chapter Six

Frank returned to the hotel to find a note from Chet saying he was checking out the local university and would be back no later than eight. Frank checked his watch. Two hours. Enough time to browse the phone book and get a list of possible places Tandem could be employed during his two year hiatus. 

Frank sat down on the bed and reached for the phone book but bypasses it and picked up the phone when it rang. "Son?" Fenton's voice came through.

"Hi, Dad," Frank greeted his father. "Any word on Joe yet?"

"Afraid not," Fenton said. "But your idea about stolen supplies paid off," he continued. "Yasmine has been reporting regular loses at their factory in North Carolina. It's located in Gaylord about twenty miles south of your current location."

"Chet and I will head down there first thing in the morning," promised Frank. "How did the lead in New York go?"

"Tandem was there but it was only temporary," Fenton answered. "The apartment was rented three months ago to a Mexican named Juan Perez. He's an illegal."

"Anything else?" asked Frank.

"Tandem has definitely set up another lab," Fenton said. "And he has a backer. I found a receipt for a list of items purchased via a mail-order company."

"Delivered to the apartment?" Frank asked in surprise.

"Negative," was the reply. "The address was ripped but I did get the zip code. It's in Gaylord."

"If his lab is in Gaylord then I'll find it," Frank vowed.

"We'll find it," Fenton amended his son's words. "You and Chet go to Yasmine tomorrow morning and then meet me at the police station at noon."

"Will do," acknowledged Frank.

Chet returned to the hotel a little before eight. "Frank!" he shouted excitedly when he entered the room he shared with his friend. "Tandem is here!"

"What?" Frank asked, jumping up from the bed where he had been studying a map of Gaylord he had purchased in the hotel's lobby.

Chet handed Frank a flyer he had removed from the bulletin board near the campus bookstore. Frank read over the paper, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "It does sound like it might be Tandem behind this," he agreed. The flyer was an advertisement for college males to give a vial of blood, hair and nail samples in exchange for twenty dollars. Those interested should call 555-8491 for further information.

"Chet, you're fantastic!" Frank enthused, reaching for the phone. He punched in the number to exit the room then hit the number from the flyer.

"Hello?" inquired a shy voice from the other end.

"Is this 555-8491?" inquired Frank.

"Yes," replied the voice. "May I help you?"

"I saw your flyer on campus today," Frank fibbed. "Are you still offering twenty dollars?"

"We are," the voice answered. "I just need you to answer a few questions to see if you qualify. How old are you?"

"Nineteen," lied Frank. He wanted to be old enough to be in college but not too old to be not considered in case this was for Tandem.

"And your natural hair color?" came the next question.

"Blond," Frank answered. "But what has that to do with anything?"

"That information is classified," the man at the other end replied. "What is your height and weight?" Frank gave the accurate measurements.

"Do you have any handicaps?"

"No way," Frank returned. "I was the starting quarterback in high school."

"Excellent," came the answer. "One final question. What color are your eyes?"

"Blue," Frank said, absolutely positive this was a link to Tandem at this point.

"Very good," the man said. "We are taking the samples the day after tomorrow at six p.m.," the man continued. "We have rented a storage building on highway 184. Just make a right on 184 from 221 and the rental place is two miles down on your left just past the Honda dealership. We're unit nine. You will have to park at the end of the road and walk in."

"No problem," Frank said. "You need my name?"

"Not at this point," was the reply. "Tomorrow you will be asked to fill out a questionnaire when we obtain the samples and pay you."

"Is this going to be in a check?" demanded Frank. "'Cause I need the money and the bank will be closed that late."

"All funds will be distributed in cash," the man assured Frank before terminating the call.

"Okay," Frank said, setting the receiver down and looking at Chet. "I need to find someone to dye my hair. Someone who can make people believe I'm a natural blond."

"You don't have the complexion to get away with it," Chet told him, looking at Frank critically. "Besides, they will probably pull the hair out instead of cutting it and even a great dye job couldn't help you then."

"You're right," Frank agreed in a disgruntled tone. "But we can still go and check the place out."

"Definitely," concurred Chet. "Now how about you tell me what you found out from Sarah over dinner?"


	7. Chapter Seven

"I don't think this is a good idea," Rachel said the next morning as Joe entered the kitchen dressed in a pair of jeans and a tee shirt that she had purchased at the local thrift shop the day after they had found Joe on the highway. 

"It's a great way to get at the files," Joe told her before Spirit or Roger could voice their opinions. "If people are dying because of something Farkas is doing then we need to find out what it is and put a stop to it."

"He's right about that," Roger concurred. "And even if Joe can't remember anything he does seem to know what he's doing."

"He's just a boy," Rachel snapped.

"But a boy with a legitimate reason to see Dr. Donovan," Joe pointed out.

"Won't he wonder why you're seeing him when you've been staying with us?" asked Spirit.

"I'm not going to tell him," Joe said.

"I told Joe that he should say Martha Blevins has been taking care of him," Roger put in. "No one will go to check it out and Martha only comes into town once a month and she was in last week."

"But after you see him?" demanded Rachel. "You can't go to Martha's and you can't stay in town alone. You have no where to go."

"Not necessarily," countered Joe. "I'll go see the sheriff after I visit Donovan. Maybe he will have found something out about me by now."

"And if he hasn't?" asked Spirit, frowning.

"The point is moot," declared Roger. "After Joe sees Donovan he is coming back here. It won't matter if Donovan knows the truth after Joe's visit."

'Unless he's hiding something,' Joe thought. Joe wisely kept quite. If the Fairbanks thought he would be in danger later because of this then he doubted they would let him go through with it and he wanted to help them if he could.

Dr. Fairbanks drove Joe most of the way into town and instructed him to go to Millie's Diner when he had finished with Donovan.

Joe made his way to Donovan's office and stepped up to the receptionist's desk. "If you will fill this out while you wait," said the receptionist at the front desk, handing Joe a clipboard and pen.

Joe looked at the sheet of paper and paled. "I...I can't," he said.

"Why not?" demanded the receptionist, narrowing her eyes on the youth.

"I can't remember who I am," he explained. "I don't know anything about me."

"Look, kid," she said with a sigh. "That joke is old and trite."

"It's no joke," Joe stated earnestly. "Mrs. Blevins found me and nursed me for a few days but thought I should come into town and see a real doctor now that I'm awake and can move around by myself."

"Mrs. Blevins?" the nurse inquired.

"Martha Blevins," Joe affirmed with a nod.

"How did you lose your memory?" she asked, still suspicious.

"I don't know," Joe answered. "I just woke up yesterday. Mrs. Blevins said I had been unconscious for a couple of days."

"No insurance, then?" she asked.

"No, ma'am," Joe replied, his eyes downcast. "I guess I should have tried to find a hospital or the police instead of coming here," he continued. "This was just the first place I saw."

"No, no," the receptionist said. "Just have a seat dear and we will get you checked out in no time."

Joe gave her a lopsided smile. "Thanks," he said.

Joe took a seat and looked around at the other people in the waiting room. By the fish tank sat a woman with mousy brown hair and sallow eyes. Her skin was pale and she looked incredibly tired. Her head was lying back against the wall and her eyes were shut but even though she looked like she might be dead her breathing was a prominent indication that she was not.

Near the door sat a man in his late twenties who was dressed as John Phipps had been but had thinning red hair and brown eyes. The freckles on his skin stood out brilliantly against his wan pallor and he was currently involved in a coughing fit that seemed to emanate from deep inside.

By the desk was another man, a farmer by all indications, with faded jeans, muddy boots and a wad of dip in his cheek. His face was sun-hardened with worry lines covering his forehead. Unlike the other two patients, this man looked to be in much better shape and Joe supposed this man was here for a check-up rather than because he was actually sick.

The office was fairly large with windows along the front except for a corner set-up for kids with a play table and toy chest. A magazine rack was next to the receptionist's desk with an array of magazines ranging from adventure to health and science. Joe counted the chairs. The place could easily sit thirty-eight people although Joe doubted more than three or four were scheduled per hour because Donovan was the only doctor.

The door opened and a nurse gestured for Joe to join her. Joe stood up as the lumberjack scowled at him, in a foul mood because Joe had gotten called back first.

Joe followed the nurse through the door and to an open space with a scale; blood pressure monitor; laptop and several other items that he either didn't recognize or were too mundane to mention.

"Okay, Joe?" she asked, lifting an eyebrow with the mention of his name.

"It was the first name that popped into my head when Mrs. Blevins said she had to call me something," Joe explained with a shrug.

"All right," agreed the nurse with a smile. "If you will step up on the scales please?" Joe did as instructed and waited patiently as the nurse jotted down his weight. "Now, let's see how tall you are," she said, lifting a measuring bar from the scales. She wrote down that number as well.

Next, Joe had his temperature and blood pressure taken. "What's that for?" Joe asked warily when the nurse produced a syringe and four small, empty vials.

"Since we don't know anything about you, we need to type your blood as well as check for a few other things," the nurse explained, tying a band around his upper arm. "If you have some type of disease and need treatment, we need to find out." She swiped a vein in the crook of his arm. "This will sting a bit," she warned him and inserted the needle.

After the nurse had finished, Joe refused the band-aid and held the cotton swab tightly as he followed her down the hall with his arm bent.

"Just have a seat and the doctor will be in shortly," she said as Joe sat down. As soon as she closed the door, Joe checked to make sure he was no longer bleeding then chucked the cotton swab into the trashcan. Joe cracked the door and listened. He could hear the doctor talking with the nurse briefly before entering a room around the corner and shutting the door. Knowing he didn't have long, he hurried down the hall and back to the small office he had passed on his way to his room. Entering, he closed the door softly and went to the file cabinet and pulled open the drawer marked T.

Here it is, thought Joe, pulling out Abraham Tyler's folder. Dr. Fairbanks had given him the names of the victims on his way into town and this was one of the men Fairbanks had not treated. Joe flipped through the sheaf of papers and glanced at the notes made by Dr, Donovan. He checked four other folders before leaving and making his way back to the room where he had been left. A few minutes later, the doctor arrived.

"Hello, there," greeted the doctor with a cheery smile. "I'm Gary Donovan," he introduced himself, holding out his hand.

Joe shook the hand and got his first good look at the doctor. He was a few inches shorter than Joe with hazel eyes and unruly hair. He was too thin, in Joe's opinion, and he looked like he had a lot on his mind.

"Well, now," said Donovan, releasing Joe's hand and opening Joe's file. "Amnesia?" he asked, looking over at Joe.

Joe nodded and told him the same lie he had given the receptionist. "Hmmm," murmured Donovan thoughtfully. "Let's give you a physical."

An hour later Dr. Donovan told Joe he could get dressed. "You seem to be in perfect physical condition," he said. "But since you do have amnesia and were obviously involved in some type of trauma, I'm going to send you to the hospital for a CAT scan," he continued.

"Uh," Joe interrupted him before he could go any further. "I don't have any money," he said. "And no one seems to know me so I can't contact anyone about getting some or even any insurance."

"Relax," Donovan told him kindly. "I'd say you are still a minor; sixteen or, maybe, seventeen. If someone does show up to claim you then I and the hospital will bill them. If not, as a minor, you will be a ward of the state and the Virginian government will cover the cost of everything."

"Virginia?" Joe asked in mild shock.

"That's correct," acknowledged Donovan. "You didn't know that?"

"I was told I was in Cranton but no one mentioned Virginia," Joe said.

"You do seem to have a northern accent," Donovan stated, his forehead wrinkling in thought. " Have you talked to the sheriff yet?"

Joe shook his head. "This is my first stop since I reached town."

"When you do see Sheriff Tanner, tell him you might originally be from up north," he suggested. "You could be a runaway."

"But if I ran away, why would I tell the sheriff so he could send me back?" Joe argued reasonably.

"Being on your own is one thing," Donovan pointed out. "Being on your own when you don't know anything about your past is another."

"I guess you're right," Joe responded with a slight shrug. "I'll go see the sheriff just as soon as I leave here," he promised.

"No," Donovan corrected him. "After you go to the hospital. Once I get the results I will get in touch with the sheriff. I'm sure he will find you a place to stay until your family is found or until social services can find you a home."

"Thanks," Joe said, rising as the doctor did.

"Take this to the front desk and Karen will set you up with an appointment at the hospital and tell you how to get there. It's only about a quarter of a mile from here," he added. "It's that large building in the background you saw from outside."

Joe followed Donovan out of the room then continued down the hall toward the checkout, unaware Phipps had come to check on his sick buddy.

"What was he doing here?" hissed Phipps, grabbing Donovan's arm and pulling him back through a door out of sight of the youth in case he turned around.

"He who?" demanded Donovan with narrowed eyes. He thoroughly disliked the majority of Farkas's employees but Phipps was one of the worst.

"That blond kid," Phipps said, his anger and suspicion coming through loud and clear.

"I gave him a physical," Donovan stated, unprepared to give any more details.

"He came to you for a physical?" Phipps repeated in disbelief.

"I am a physician," stated Donovan haughtily.

"Yeah, but he was at the Fairbanks' last night," Phipps said. "Why would he come to you?"

Donovan's face broke into a scowl. "Come on Doc," Phipps said. "You had better call Farkas."

Donovan hesitated only for a second. "You're right," he agreed with a sigh. If only he hadn't gotten mixed up with Farkas in the first place he thought. He should have let Farkas go ahead and file a malpractice suit. Yes, Farkas had been lying but he was positive Farkas could have found the required amount of physicians who would back him up for a price. Donovan gave a deeper sigh. How much more would he have to do to keep his practice alive?


	8. Chapter Eight

Joe met Dr. Fairbanks at the diner and told him what he had found out: The other victims all suffered symptoms of radiation poisoning but not the symptoms that had mislead Fairbanks in the first place. "Donovan wanted me to get a CAT scan at the hospital and then see the sheriff," Joe ended. 

"I agree fully," Fairbanks said. "I've already made you an appointment for the CAT scan. It's scheduled for two thirty this afternoon. We'll go and see Sheriff Tanner first."

The two ate lunch and then Dr. Fairbanks drove them to the sheriff's office. "Sheriff Tanner, this is Joe," the doctor made the introduction.

Sheriff Tanner was a tall man with a rock solid body. It was obvious to see he worked out frequently and kept control of his diet. He looked at Joe with curious blue eyes and a friendly smile. "You definitely look better than you did the last time I saw you," he said to Joe. Joe gave him a faint smile, aware he would have been unconscious at the time. "I'm afraid there still hasn't been a report filed on you," the sheriff continued.

"Have you checked farther a field?" Joe asked, then repeated Donovan's observation about him maybe being from farther north.

"I ran your description through the national database," the sheriff replied. "I rechecked this morning," he added. "No one has filed a missing person's report on you."

"What happens now?" asked Joe.

"I reported you to social services," Tanner said. "But the Fairbanks have asked to be your guardians until your case goes to court."

Joe looked at Roger Fairbanks. "Thank you," he said gratefully. He didn't want to be placed in an institution or have to get used to new strangers.

"Do you know anything about the lumberjack company?" Joe changed the subject as he turned back to Sheriff Tanner.

"Why do you want to know about that?" Tanner asked, his curiosity deepening to suspicion as his gaze narrowed on the youth before him. Dr. Fairbanks stepped in and told the sheriff about their unwelcome guest the night before.

"Have you been to the mill?" asked Joe.

"I have," the sheriff acknowledged with a frown. "But, honestly, it seemed a bit understaffed and it didn't look as productive as I thought it would."

"Are there caves in this area?" Joe posed his next question.

"All over the place," Roger answered.

"Any near the mill?"

"Not that I know of," Tanner answered and the doctor shrugged his shoulders. "Why?"

"Phipps was covered in black dust," Joe answered. "He may be dressed like a lumberjack but the dirt and his fingernails made me think he was a miner instead."

"I think you're off base," Tanner told him. "There would have been blasting."

"Not if the mine is a natural cave," Joe pointed out. "Do you know anything about Farkas?"

"A bit," the sheriff acknowledged with a nod. "His full name is Anthony Ryan Farkas," he began. "He's from out west. Oklahoma, I think he said. And he isn't an easy person to be around."

"Why is that?" Joe asked.

Tanner shrugged. "He's gruff and tends to keep to himself. I've only met him twice and then I had to go through a secretary and two bodyguards to do it."

"Married?"

"Widower," Tanner answered. "With two sons, although I've only seen one come into town."

"What does Farkas look like?" inquired Joe.

"Six foot four with blond hair, blue eyes and in pretty good shape," was the answer. "A lot like you, actually," he added, looking at Joe with renewed interest. "It's possible you could be his son."

"No," denied Joe half-heartedly. It was possible, he knew, but to think he might be related to someone who was letting people die to make money was too much! Joe shivered at the thought. "Wouldn't he have reported me missing?"

"Not if he thought you had left town to visit someone," Tanner said. "A relative, perhaps?"

"After this long?" Fairbanks argued. "Preposterous!" He liked Joe and doubted the youth could in any way be related to the type of scum he knew Farkas to be.

"Still, I had better check it out," Tanner said. "You can ride up there..."

"No," Fairbanks interrupted the man. "He has to go to the hospital for a CAT scan," he explained. "It has been put off long enough."

"All right then," Tanner agreed with Fairbanks's directive. "I'll ride up to the mill and..." he broke off as the intercom on his desk came on.

"Sir, Mr. Farkas is on line two."

"Thanks, Pete," acknowledged Tanner then picked up the phone and hit the flashing light. "Tanner," he stated.

The voice on the other end of the line was loud and frantic and Joe and Roger had no problem in hearing what was being said.

"Sheriff! You've got to help me!" declared Farkas anxiously. "My son is missing!"


	9. Chapter Nine

The next morning found Frank and Chet in Gaylord talking to Jerry Blevins, the manager of Yasmine Medical Supply. 

"Yes, your father told me you were coming," Jerry said after Frank had introduced himself and Chet. "I've never met him but I have heard good things about him so if he thinks you will be able to help, I really would appreciate it."

"What kinds of things have gone missing?" asked Frank.

"A little bit of everything just about," Blevins answered. "To begin with it was small things: chemicals; vials; burners and the like. Small losses happen occasionally so we didn't think much of it. We assumed part of the delivery hadn't made it to the loading bay. But then we started missing more expensive equipment and, well, that's when we knew we had a thief."

"How long has this been going on?" asked Frank.

"I can't say for sure, but at least since last August," Blevins answered.

"I have a picture I would like you to look at," Frank said, reaching into his shirt pocket and removing Tandem's photograph. "Did he work here at any point in time?"

Blevins took the picture and studied it. "I can't recall," he said. "But let me show it to Ruth Ann. She's got a good memory for faces." He opened the door of his office and asked his secretary to enter.

"Ruth Ann, do you remember this man ever working here?' he asked the middle-aged secretary.

Ruth Ann took the photo and looked at it briefly before removing her glasses and giving it a more thorough going over. "He never worked here," she finally replied, putting her glasses back on. "But he did hang around outside a lot," she added. "Billy Cunningham was the man he kept dropping in to see."

"Does Billy still work here?" inquired Frank.

"No," was the answer. "He quit pert near two weeks ago."

"Can I see his file?" asked Frank, a glint of excitement in his eyes.

"Of course," Blevins answered. "Ruth Ann, would you please..."

"I'm on it," she cut him off, going over to a file cabinet in Blevins' office. Seconds later she handed a folder to her boss before leaving the room.

Jerry Blevins thumbed through the file then handed it to Frank and sat back down. Frank opened the folder and looked at the picture in the upper right corner of the first page. Billy Cunningham was an average looking guy with short, straight black hair, green eyes and a black mustache. Frank scanned the information that accompanied the picture and memorized the information he needed like his address, his parents' names and his attendance, which had been excellent until he had quit without notice.

Frank closed the folder and stood up, returning it as Blevins and Chet stood as well. "Thank you," Frank said. "We're fairly certain that the thefts are the work of Tandem and his men," he continued. "Once they are apprehended you shouldn't have anymore problems. But on the off chance they aren't responsible, we will be back to do a thorough investigation," he promised.

"Where to now?" asked Chet once he and Frank were back inside their rental car.

"To check out Cunningham's address," Frank replied, starting the car. "We still have a little time before we're supposed to meet Dad."

Frank stopped at the first gas station they came to and opened his door. "Chet, would you please fill it up while I pay and get directions?"

"Sure," agreed Chet, getting out.

When Frank returned to the car they got back on the highway and drove for almost three miles before taking the exit to Crescent Road. "Watch for Marlin Street," Frank commanded, slowing down a bit. "The attendant said it was a one-lane gravel road but he couldn't remember if it was on the left or right."

"Next right," Chet told Frank, spotting the sign ahead.

Frank slowed down even more and made the turn. "This is a dead end," he said, bringing the car to a stop. "Get out and wait behind a tree. I'll check the place out. If I'm not back in forty minutes hike to the nearest phone and call the police."

"I've got my cell," Chet said.

"I tried to call mom at the station on mine but I couldn't get a service connection," Frank informed him. "Probably had to do with the mountains," he guessed.

"Great," grumbled Chet, getting out. He hated unnecessary exercise. "Just be careful," he cautioned his friend.

"I will," Frank promised. He waited until Chet was no longer visible from the road before continuing up the road.

There were only three houses on the road and the first two were run down to the point he doubted they were even livable. The last house was also in bad shape but obvious attempts at minor repairs were present. The windows were boarded up but the wood looked new unlike the rotting boards at the end of the porch.

As Frank exited the car and approached, he noticed the steps leading to the porch had also had fast repairs and the knob on the front door gleamed.

Frank stepped up to the door and knocked. A few seconds later, he knocked again. Still there was no answer. He tried the knob. Locked, as he knew it would be. He retreated down the steps and walked around the house. All of the windows had been boarded up and the back door was also locked with a new knob in place.

He reached up to retrieve his lock pick kit from inside his front pocket and growled in disgust as he remembered he had forgotten to transfer it to his clean clothing after his shower this morning. 'Too bad Joe's not here,' he thought. Joe had developed a talent for picking locks without the specialized equipment their father had given them the previous Christmas. " I have to make Joe teach me," he mumbled, looking around the house once more for an entryway. Even the basement window had been boarded up tight.

Frank started to return to the car but stopped when he spotted several peanut shells lying just short of the grass several yards in the distance. He walked toward the grass aware the hard earth left no sign of his trespass. He stopped and looked down, excitement taking over when he remembered what he had been told about Tandem's desire for shelling his own peanuts. Frank's eyes scanned the trees ahead of him for any sign of movement. Nothing but leaves rustling in the slight breeze. He checked his watch and frowned. He felt a strong need to search the area but if he didn't leave now then Chet would take off and they would miss their appointment with his dad.

With a resigned sigh, Frank turned away from the enticing panorama and walked back to the car. After picking up Chet, they continued to the police station.


	10. Chapter Ten

"Calm down, Mr. Farkas," Sheriff Tanner said. "Now, how long has he been missing?"

"Three days," Farkas answered.

"And you are just now reporting it?" Tanner demanded in disbelief.

"He was supposed to have met some friends in Greensboro, North Carolina and take a flight to Florida," Farkas explained. "They were going to spend a week in Fort Lauderdale. Jeff called a few minutes ago and to find out why Joe changed his mind about going."

"But he did go. He just never got there," Sheriff Tanner ended for him. "Can you describe your son to me?"

"Seventeen, six feet tall, blond hair and blue eyes," Farkas answered. "He's in real good shape and is what the girls call cute. Now, call the FBI. Do something!" he demanded, his voice growing frantic once more.

"Mr. Farkas, could you meet me at the hospital entrance in thirty minutes?" requested the sheriff.

"Y..yes," Farkas answered, sounding scared. "Why? Is he..." he broke off, seemingly unable to continue.

"We have a young man, about sixteen or seventeen years of age who has amnesia," Tanner explained. "Dr. Fairbanks has been looking after him and has ordered a CAT Scan to make sure there is no permanent damage."

"I'll leave now," Farkas said, the excitement in his voice filtering through the phone line.

Tanner hung up and looked at Joe. "If you are Farkas's son you're seventeen," he informed the youth and told him what Farkas had said.

"I don't believe it," Fairbanks stated, his eyes hard. "Joe isn't anything like Farkas."

"In looks, he is," Tanner disagreed with the doctor as he ran a speculative eye over the boy.

"But not in morals," Roger insisted. "I know Farkas and Joe is as different from him as night is from day."

"We shall see," Tanner stated.

"You won't let him take Joe?" demanded Fairbanks angrily.

"Not without proof," Tanner promised. 

"I'm sorry," apologized Joe once they were back in the car.

"Whatever for?" Roger asked in surprise.

Joe gave a self-conscious shrug, a movement so slight his shoulders barely moved. "For all of the trouble my family has caused you and the people around here."

"Joe, we don't even know if you are Farkas's son," Roger reminded him gently. "And even if you are, I sincerely doubt you know what is going on up there. I'm a pretty good judge of character and you aren't the kind of person who would allow someone to get hurt." Fairbanks frowned. "Maybe that is how you got hurt."

"Huh?"

"You're very inquisitive," Roger observed. "Maybe you noticed something was going on and one or more of Farkas's men got to you before they realized who you were. Of course, they wouldn't tell their boss. They would be afraid of what he would do to them."

"So you do believe I'm Farkas's son?" Joe queried.

Fairbanks gave a deep sigh. "I hope not," he said. 

"Well, if I am Farkas's son, I am not going to keep quite about what's going on," Joe stated stubbornly. "I know those people died from radiation poisoning and I intend to find out how."

Ryan Farkas parked his green Ford Bronco in the first available space he could find and hurried over to the sheriff's car as Tanner opened the door. 

"Where's my son?" Farkas demanded once the sheriff had exited his car and shut the door.

"We aren't sure if he is your son," Tanner pointed out.

"Well, does he have a little mole on his left thigh?" demanded Farkas. "Or a little round birthmark, no bigger than a cigarette burn, on the top of his left foot?"

"I'm not sure," the sheriff replied, convinced Joe was the man's son if indeed he did have the two identifying marks. "Let's go see if he's finished yet."

The two men reached the second floor where the CAT Scan was being administered and took seats in the waiting room.

The sheriff watched Farkas closely. He always considered a person's body language to be one of the most important leads to a suspect's guilt or innocence and right now, Farkas was acting like a worried father.

Joe entered the waiting room almost an hour later. Farkas saw him enter and froze for a brief second before leaping to his feet. "Joseph!" he exclaimed, rushing up to Joe and enveloping him in a hug that buried Joe's face in the man's shoulder. "I've been out of my mind," Farkas continued, pulling back but not releasing Joe. He took in the bruise on Joe's forehead and winced. "What happened to you?"

Joe gave a wan smile. For some reason he couldn't fathom, this man made him sick to his stomach. "I...I'm not sure," Joe stuttered.

"Will Dr. Fairbanks be out soon?" Tanner asked Joe.

Joe nodded. "As soon as he finishes going over the results with the lab technician."

"Good," Tanner stated. "While we wait, would you mind taking off your left shoe?" Joe made a face and Tanner hastened to explain about the birthmark.

"Okay," agreed Joe, sitting down. He pulled off the sneaker and then his sock. There was a small round mark on the top of his left foot. It looked more like a burn scar from a cigarette to him but then, why would he have been burnt there?

"There is one more," Tanner said. "A mole on your thigh."

"Left?" asked Joe. He had noticed it when he had showered earlier that morning. Surprisingly, he hadn't seen any other moles or freckles on his body except the one and that, he supposed, is why it had been so noticeable. "I guess you really are my father," Joe said, turning to look at Farkas.

"Of course I am," Farkas said, putting an arm around Joe's shoulders and squeezing. "And I'm sure that once you get back home around familiar things, and your brother, that your memory will start returning."

"I hope so," said Joe miserably. "It's horrible not knowing who I am or you." He paused. "What's my brother's name?" he asked. 

"Jerry," Farkas answered.

'That's not right.' The thought exited his mind as quickly as it had come and Joe remained silent. 

"Where is Fairbanks?" demanded Farkas, turning to glare at the nurse behind the desk. "I want to know everything about my son's condition."

"I'm right here," Fairbanks declared a bit dryly, entering the waiting room as Farkas was speaking. 

"And how do we know Joe is your son?" Fairbanks demanded. "Do you have any proof?"

"He knew about my birthmark," Joe informed Dr. Fairbanks, his expression a bit forlorn.

Dr. Fairbanks tightened his lips briefly. He couldn't understand how Joe could be so sad after finding out who he was unless his sub-conscious was telling him that Farkas was lying. Except, how could he be lying? Farkas couldn't have known about Joe's birthmark unless he was the boy's father or at least knew him.

"The CAT Scan was clear," Fairbanks said. "Joe should still take it easy for a few days and get plenty of rest. He will need a check up in about two weeks."

"What about his memory?" Farkas asked in concern, releasing Joe and giving the doctor his full attention.

Dr. Fairbanks's expression softened a bit. Farkas was scum in his book but he did seem to care about his family. "Don't push it," he finally advised. "His memory should return once he gets back in familiar surroundings but it could return all at once or in flashes."

"Flashes?" asked Joe.

"You might see someone or even an item and a memory associated to that person or thing might flitter through your mind even though you may not fully recognize the person or item," Roger explained.

"Like if I saw a boat I might have the feeling that I've been on it but not remember when or with whom?" asked Joe.

"Exactly," acknowledged Fairbanks. He put a hand on Joe's shoulder and looked into his eyes. "When you are ready to remember, you will," he promised. "And if you need anything, let me know, hmm?"

"I will," promised Joe, aware of the slight alteration in Farkas's demeanor.

"Come on, Son," Farkas said, taking Joe's arm. "Let's get you home." 


	11. Chapter Eleven

"Sir," Joe started once he was sitting in the passenger seat of the truck. 

"Dad," Farkas corrected Joe. "Relax Joe," he continued, smiling as he glanced over at Joe before starting the truck. "Your memory will return, but I am your father and there is no need to be scared."

"I'm not," denied Joe.

"All right, then," Farkas said, smiling. "Was there something you wanted?"

"There is this guy who works for you, a John Phipps," Joe said. "He was at Dr. Fairbanks's house last night. Why didn't he recognize me?"

"Because he's an employee," Farkas answered. "You stay around the house more when you're at home."

"When I'm at home?" Joe repeated, looking confused.

"You go to a boarding school in Maryland," Farkas informed him. "I don't see a lot of you which is why I didn't want you going to Fort Lauderdale with your friends."

"But you did," Joe said. "Let me go. Even if I didn't quite make it," he added ruefully.

"You're seventeen," Farkas stated matter-of-factly. "I can't hold onto you forever."

"When do I go back to boarding school?" asked Joe.

"I'm not sure I'm going to let you," Farkas told him. "For one thing, there is no way I'm going to let you go away until your memory has returned and second, after this coming year, you will be off to college and I'm sure I will see you even less."

"We aren't close, then?" Joe asked.

"No," admitted Farkas with a deep sigh. "But I would really like to change that if you are willing."

"I'd like that," Joe said, smiling. Getting closer to his father sounded like a very nice thing to do.

They arrived at the homestead a little later and Farkas immediately began giving Joe a tour of the house. "And this is your bedroom," Farkas told Joe, leading him into a spacious bedroom with a full size bed. Joe walked around the room, touching a few of the items and tying to will himself to get some sort of sense that would let him know he belonged here, but nothing came to him.

"Don't look so disappointed little brother," said Jerry Farkas, a twenty-year-old man with blond hair and green eyes. "Dad said the doc told you that your memory would come back if you didn't force it."

"Words to that effect," concurred Farkas. "Jerry, why don't you talk to your brother a bit while I go see about having an early dinner. Joe's had a long day and needs to get to bed early."

"It's not even dark," objected Joe.

"No sweat, bro," Jerry told him. "After dinner I will show you around the grounds before you hit the sack."

"Sounds like a plan," Joe agreed readily. His dad had shown him every room in the house and re-introduced him to the staff but he still hadn't seen the mill or anything outside except the front entrance.

"Do you help dad out at work?" asked Joe, sitting down on the bed and watching Jerry closely.

Jerry stood up straight from where he had been leaning against the wall by the doorframe and came over and sat down beside Joe. "Ever since I finished high school," Jerry acknowledged. "You're the brainy one in the family," he continued. "You always wanted to go to Wake Forest for some reason."

"Wake Forest University? In North Carolina?" asked Joe, recognizing the name.

"That's right," Jerry said, smiling. "I guess it's true what they say about amnesia," he added.

"What do they say?" queried Joe curiously.

"You only forget the personal stuff," Jerry replied.

"I guess," shrugged Joe. "I certainly don't remember anything." he gave a short laugh. "I guess I'm just lucky that the name that popped into my head when I was asked what I wanted to be called was Joe. I had no idea that it was really my name."

"Yeah, you are lucky," agreed Jerry. "So, is there anything you want to ask me? Maybe if you have a girlfriend or something?"

Joe grinned. "Do I have a girlfriend"

After dinner Jerry took Joe outside and showed him the stables. "We moved here after you started your term," Jerry told Joe. "Dad went ballistic when he saw the stables and had to have horses even though none of us could ride."

"But I do get to learn?" asked Joe, patting the side of a brown gelding.

"Better wait until after your memory returns," Jerry said, noticing how comfortable Joe seemed around the horses. Obviously, this boy who had recently been poking into their business knew how to ride. Dumb! thought Jerry. Why did I have to say he couldn't ride? "What would you like to see next?" Jerry asked, deciding it might be prudent to get Joe away from the stables.

"How about the mill?" asked Joe.

"Why are you so interested in it?" asked Jerry curiously. "It's just the place where we process the trees."

"Dr. Fairbanks said people were dying because of what's going on up here," Joe said.

"He's a quack!" Jerry snorted derisively.

"He probably saved my life," Joe told him, scowling.

"And you feel obligated to foster his illusions?" parried Jerry. "Joe, do you honestly think Dad, or I, would be cutting trees or operating the mill if there were any danger?"

"No," Joe admitted but then asked a question that sent an icy chill down Jerry's back. "But what about the mine?"

"What mine?" Jerry asked, trying, but failing, to look innocent.

"The one the men are working in," said Joe. "Does Dad have another business operating here?"

"Where did you get an idea like that?" demanded Jerry.

"Is it a secret?" Joe asked. "Is that why you're pretending there isn't one? I'm your brother. Don't you trust me?"

"I...of course I do," Jerry declared. "It's just, well, we've been having problems with it and Dad didn't want you to worry. You've obviously been through a lot and don't need any more to deal with right now."

"The deaths," Joe said. "They are caused by radiation, aren't they?"

"Yes, they are," admitted Farkas, coming up behind the two. "Not by some mysterious malady that requires the presence of the CDC as Dr. Fairbanks seems to believe."

"Then why not tell him?" Joe asked in confusion. "Unless you're...we're..doing something illegal?"

"Of course not," denied Farkas empathetically. "But it is top-secret."

"Huh?"

"We're doing a project for the government," Farkas lied. "There was a problem but it has been taken care of now."

"If it's a government project then why do you need Dr. Fairbanks to sign off on the deaths?" Joe demanded.

"Because no one at the CDC has been cleared for information on this project," Farkas explained patiently.

"But was it necessary to threaten the Fairbanks?" Joe continued to argue. "Dr. Fairbanks seems to be a reasonable, honest man. Just explain it to him. I'm sure he would understand."

"I never threatened Fairbanks," Farkas denied heatedly.

"John Phipps did," Joe stated. "I heard him. He even tried to start a fight with me."

"Why didn't you mention this earlier?" demanded Farkas, acting shocked. "That wasn't why I sent Phipps to the Fairbanks. He was supposed to ask Roger to reconsider. Violence was not, and is not, an option."

"Maybe you could talk to Dr. Fairbanks personally?" suggested Joe, looking at his dad with raised eyebrows.

"I would like to do that," acknowledged Farkas. "I have even suggested we meet and discuss the matter, but he keeps refusing."

"I don't think he trusts you," stated Joe.

"Maybe he has something to hide," suggested Jerry, looking at his dad speculatively. "He could be the person behind the problems we have been having."

"What kind of problems?" asked Joe.

"Not now," Farkas told Joe. "You need to get back to the house and rest. If you insist, we will talk more about it tomorrow but I am limited in what I can tell you."

"I understand," Joe said, vaguely remembering several times that his curiosity had gone unsatisfied. If only the memories were more than feelings.

"I think you are wrong about Dr. Fairbanks," Joe told his dad and Jerry. "He, and his family, are nice people."

"Appearances can be deceiving, Son," Farkas said, wrapping an arm around Joe's shoulders. "Come on," he continued. "Inside. It's getting chilly."

"I'll be in after I feed the horses," Jerry said. He watched his dad, and the youth he had been ordered to treat as his younger brother, go back into the house before moving away from the stables and heading west toward the sawmill.


	12. Chapter Twelve

"Sir, Frank Hardy and Chet Morton are here," the sergeant at the front desk buzzed Chief Madison in his office. 

"Send them through," replied Chief Madison, looking across his desk at Fenton Hardy.

"Dad, Tandem's working with some guy named Cunningham," Frank said entering Madison's office. "We went to his place but didn't have enough time to check it out."

"Was anyone there?" Madison demanded, his green eyes narrowing on Frank.

"No," answered Frank. "It's a run-down house at the end of a cul de sac, but the locks on the place are new. Too, there were peanut shells near the woods. Sarah Jameson said Tandem liked to crack his own. I'm betting Tandem is somewhere in the woods near there."

"Possible," agreed Fenton.

"What evidence do you have that they are working together?" inquired Madison. After talking with Fenton Hardy he was itching to nab Tandem but he couldn't get a search warrant for Cunningham's residence without just cause.

Frank told him what the secretary at Yasmine had said. "That isn't enough for a warrant," Madison said with a scowl.

"How about having the place watched?" suggested Fenton.

"I don't have the man power for twenty-four hour surveillance of the place," Madison replied regretfully. "But I can arrange for a night watch."

"That would help," Fenton said gratefully to the chief before turning to look at Frank. "Tandem rented a helicopter in Southport," he informed his son. "The charter service reported it as stolen this morning when it was not returned. However, two of Chief Madison's men found the abandoned chopper not far from town."

"Any sign that Joe was on it?" asked Chet.

"Forensics found fingerprints that matched Joe's via the FBI's database," Madison informed him. "That was why I called Fenton and asked him to meet with me today."

"Any leads?" asked Frank, his eyes sparking with hope.

"The pilot, Aaron Lawrence, lives in town," Madison informed the group. "Lived, I should say," he amended. "His place was deserted when we went to arrest him." He held up a hand to ward off any questions until he finished. "We did find an envelope delivered to Lawrence's address but it was addressed to a Paul Michaels."

"Michaels is alive and helping Tandem!" Frank practically shouted.

"It looks that way," concurred Fenton with a tight set to his lips.

"But is he doing it willingly?" asked Chet. "I mean, didn't he help turn Tandem in before?"

"No," denied Fenton. "He just refused to experiment on live subjects. I think it is time to have a talk with his sister."

"Does she live near here?" asked Chief Madison.

"No, but she may have heard from him," Fenton explained. "I'll have Jack fly me over," he continued. "But I will be back tomorrow afternoon at the latest," he promised. "In the meantime, check out the woods behind Cunningham's," he instructed the youths. "But be careful."

Frank and Chet left the station and returned to Cunningham's road, parking behind a thicket of trees and overgrown weeds. They hiked through the woods in silence, avoiding both words and the twigs that scattered the path before them.

"It's getting dark," Chet whispered a few minutes later.

Frank nodded his agreement. The trees above were so close that their leaves blocked the sun and the earth they now trod was littered with a lime green moss. Frank kept his head turned forward but his eyes continually darted around, trying to find some indication that a human had been this route before but all he observed was nature at its finest. Ants crawling on the trees and caterpillars chewing lazily on leaves were only part of what he saw. Blue jays darted here and there and occasionally a bee would buzz close by his ear before continuing on its journey to the next bush of Rhododendron.

"Shh!" hissed Frank, stopping. He had heard something.

"It's them," whispered Chet, his lips close to Frank's ear.

Frank nodded as the muffled voices penetrated the air. "I think so," he said. "Wait here."

Chet grabbed Frank's arm and shook his head. "You can't take them alone."

"I'm just going to get close enough to listen," Frank assured his buddy. "These may not even be who we are looking for." Chet released his grip and watched as Frank crept closer to the voices.

"I don't like it," a rich baritone was saying. "You should never have gone to Bayport. Hardy wasn't after us. He didn't have a clue where you were."

"What are you worried about Paul?" demanded Tandem. "Everyone thinks you're dead."

"But if Hardy finds you then he will find me," Paul whined. "You know, I don't understand why he's going to so much trouble. You only took your file. That doesn't warrant the manhunt he has started."

"I took a bit more than that," Tandem said, grinning wickedly.

Frank's fist tightened but he kept quite. There would be plenty of time to take Tandem down after he rescued Joe.

"What do you mean?" Dr. Michaels demanded.

"Hardy's son was there," Tandem confessed. "And he was exactly the kind of boy we need."

"Was?" Michaels jumped on the verb.

"Yes, was," acknowledged Tandem completely oblivious to the effect his words were having on the hidden youth only a few feet away. "The kid put up a fight when I tried to drug him and he fell out of the chopper somewhere between Richmond and here."

"He's dead?"

"He would have to be at the height we were traveling," Tandem replied. "Besides, if by some miracle he did survive the fall he would be dead anyway. It was a wooded area and the Appalachians have their fair share or better of mountain lions and bears."


	13. Chapter 13

Chet heard the voices fade away and waited for Frank to return. When he never put in an appearance, Chet started to worry, thinking Frank may have been captured. He stealthily made his way forward until he spotted Frank. 

"What's up?" Chet hissed as he neared Frank's still form crouched beside a tree. Receiving no response, Chet put his hand on Frank's shoulder. "Frank?" he asked, his tone dropping in worry.

Frank turned and looked up at his friend. Chet could see the steady stream of tears falling unchecked from Frank's eyes and noted his shirt was growing wet. "What happened?" Chet asked, kneeling down beside Frank. "Is it...is it Joe?" he asked fearfully.

At this, Frank leapt at Chet and burst out into heart-wrenching sobs. Chet wrapped his arms around Frank and held him tight. He stared straight ahead seeing nothing because he was too overcome with shock. Joe wasn't only one of his best friends but also the guy his sister had been planning on marrying for years, unbeknownst to Joe, of course. Joe was going to be his brother too. Chet swallowed hard as his own tears finally started.

"Well, isn't this comfy and cozy?" sneered Jeffery, stepping into view and seeing the two boys embracing their grief. "And here I thought I would have to seek you out again."

Chet glared up at the intruder while Frank continued sobbing, unaware they had a visitor. "What do you want?" snarled Chet.

"My orders were to eliminate your friend there," the man told Chet. "But with Hardy actually in the area, I think he might choose to keep him, and you, as hostages."

"You killed his brother," Chet objected, glaring at the man defiantly. "Can't you just leave him alone?"

"I did not kill his brother," the man objected. "Dr. Tandem actually wanted him alive. He did, after all, possess the qualities he sought. Joseph, however, was not at all receptive to being a guinea pig and put up a fight at a most inopportune time. As a result, he fell out of the helicopter."

"And you just left him," Chet accused him bitterly.

"We made several circles but couldn't find where he went down," Jeffery replied, surprising Chet and Frank who was slowly coming out of his shock. "We were even ordered to find his remains but, alas, it proved fruitless. When my associates found evidence of a pack of wolves in the general area it became obvious that the boy was history and any remains would be useless."

"Th...that's not what Tandem just said," Frank accused him of lying.

Jeffery shrugged. "Dr. Tandem does tend to leave out details when speaking with others," he stated.

"Where?" Frank demanded. "Where did he fall out?"

"What does it matter to you?" Jeffery demanded with a wry twist to his lips.

"Joe's his brother!" Chet screamed at him angrily. "Even if there isn't much left..." his voice broke and he fell silent.

"He has to have a proper burial," Frank finished Chet's line of thought.

"Too bad you won't be able to give him one," Jeffery stated. "You see, you will never find him because you will never get the opportunity to do so.

"What do you mean?" Frank asked, knowing already where this line of questioning was leading.

Jeffrey quit speaking and smiled thinly at the two teens. "Now, on your feet," he instructed. "You wanted to find Dr. Tandem and now, you shall meet him."

Frank smothered a smile. "Yes, he had wanted to find Tandem so he could get his brother back. Now, however, he wanted to find Tandem for only one reason: to kill him.


	14. Chapter 14

Joe awoke early the next morning and looked out of his bedroom window. The view was kind of depressing for it was of the mountain that was being cleared. He could see two men working from where he stood, but he had expected more. 

'Maybe it's too early,' thought Joe, moving away from the window. He went around the room picking things up and putting them back down. He returned to the bed and sat down, picking up the five by seven frame from the nightstand as he did so. It was a picture of a young woman about twenty-five years of age with long blond tresses and blue eyes with a dimple on her left cheek. She was no great beauty and there was a kind of hardness to her eyes but she still was pleasant to look at. Joe frowned, feeling guilty. The picture was at his bedside. It had to be a picture of his deceased mother but Joe felt no stirring of emotion as he gazed at the face.

A slight knock heralded the opening of the door and Jerry poked his head inside. "Hey, bro," he greeted Joe. "That's mom," he said, entering the room and seeing what Joe was looking at.

"I can't remember her," Joe said. "Not even a feeling."

"You wouldn't," Jerry told him. "We were both little when she died. You were barely eight months old."

"How did she die?" asked Joe, looking up at Jerry.

"Car crash," Jerry answered, a thoughtful look on his face. "What did you mean, not even a feeling?"

"Well, when Dad suggested we get to know each other better, I felt like that was something I had been longing for," explained Joe. "And when I heard I had a brother, you, I felt safe. But there's nothing there when I look at the picture of mom," he ended sadly.

"Hey, don't look so down," Jerry said comfortingly as he sat down and put an arm around Joe's shoulders. "Like I said, Mom died when you were a baby. There's no way you could remember anything, even a feeling, about her."

"I guess you're right," Joe admitted ruefully although in his mind he could hear a woman's voice humming softly. 'Strange,' he thought. 'I think about mom and I get whispers of memories. I see her and nothing.'

"Breakfast is ready," Jerry told Joe. "Get dressed and come on down."

"Okay," Joe agreed standing up. After Jerry left, Joe went over to the closet and pulled out some clean clothes for after his shower. The first thing he pulled out looked new so he decided to get something older. He wanted to explore outside today and there was no reason to get good clothing dirty. He kept searching but everything in his closet looked new. Giving up, he removed a pair of crisp blue jeans and a black tee shirt sporting a band logo and a swamp scene on the front. He grabbed some underwear from a bureau drawer, not surprised to find this also all new, and went to take his shower.

Why was all of his clothing new, he wondered as he stepped under the spray and began to lather up. By the time he had finished his shower he hadn't come up with a single reason. He thought about asking but realized that would make him sound suspicious. 'Aren't I?' he asked himself. 'Face it, kid. Things just don't add up.'

Joe started out of the bedroom but stopped and turned to pick up the soiled linen, freezing as he realized why. A brief flash of memory had intruded on his thoughts. His mother was telling him to put his dirty clothes in the hamper. He didn't know how he knew the voice that ran through his head belonged to his mother but he was certain it was and that meant Jerry had lied to him.

But why would Jerry lie to him unless he was only trying to make him feel better about not remembering their mother? Joe took a deep breath. He guessed Jerry was a great big brother. No wonder he had felt safe when he had found out he had a brother. But was lying about their mom really going to help him in the long run? Still confused, Joe headed downstairs to breakfast.

"Jerry, why don't you take your brother exploring today?" Farkas suggested as they finished breakfast. "I'm sure Joe wants to look around and see if anything seems remotely familiar. Even though you hadn't been here long before your accident," he added, turning to Joe. Farkas's smile faded only to be replaced by a sad frown. "If only we hadn't sold the old homestead," he continued. "I'm sure you would have had an easier time remembering."

"It's okay, Dad," Joe told him. "Dr. Fairbanks was fairly positive my memory would come back. Um...Dad, would you mind if I went to visit the Fairbanks this evening?" Joe asked a bit hesitantly. "I'll tell him Phipps wasn't acting on your behalf. Maybe you and he could even be friends. I know I'd like to get friendlier with his daughter."

"We'll see how you are feeling," Farkas replied with a forced smile.

"Sounds like it's a good thing you don't have a girlfriend," Jerry told Joe, standing up. "I'm going to help clear the table but you can go on out to the porch. I'll be there in a couple of minutes."

"I'll help," offered Joe.

"No," Farkas objected. "You're still a bit of an invalid," he explained. "You can pick up your chores again next week."

"Lucky dog," Jerry told him with a grin.

Joe left the room, conscious of the fact that Jerry and his dad started whispering fiercely as he moved away. He didn't like being left out but he was sure he had secrets with each of them that the other didn't know about. 'If only I could remember them,' Joe thought morosely as he stepped through the front door and onto the large, wraparound porch.

Joe walked to the banister and set both hands on it as he gazed at the countryside around him. His eyes fastened on an outcropping of rocks in the distance. There could be a cave around there, he thought. He was still staring at the area when the door opened behind him and Jerry came outside.

"Well, Little Brother, are you ready?" Jerry asked.

"Yes," Joe said without hesitation. "Can we start over there?" he asked, pointing to the outcrop.

"Actually, Dad thought we should start out with an easy walk and then, if you are feeling up to it, we can climb up there," Jerry answered.

"Really?" asked Joe, lifting his eyebrows in surprise. "Dad won't mind if I look around there?"

"Of course not, silly," Jerry answered. "But remember, what you see is a secret," he warned him. "You only have limited security clearance because you haven't been around to help. But you did sign off saying you wouldn't speak of the project to anyone."

"I can keep a secret," Joe declared in an affronted tone.

"I know you can," Jerry agreed. "Now, let's get moving."

Jerry showed Joe the area surrounding the house that had gone unseen the night before and then led him into the woods toward the sawmill.

"Not a lot of people work here, do they?" asked Joe once they were inside the main building.

"No," acknowledged Jerry. "But we do have more men than you've seen so far," he continued. "They are working on the contract for the government."

"How long have we been working on this project?" asked Joe.

"About six months."

"And people are still getting sick?" asked Joe in shock. "Why haven't more precautions been taken? Since the material we're mining for is radioactive, the government should provide protective suits for the employees. They've done it before."

Jerry looked surprised that Joe seemed to know something on the subject but he quickly hid his amazement. "Up to that climb?" he asked, changing the subject.

"Yes," Joe replied enthusiastically. He had enjoyed looking around but he was anxious to look at the mine.

"Easy," Jerry said sometime later when Joe lost his grip on the rock cliff and nearly fell.

"Isn't there an easier way?" demanded Joe. He couldn't believe the workers had to climb the cliff to get to work.

"Of course there is," Jerry answered. "But you wouldn't be allowed inside," he explained. "If we sneak in the side entrance, the one security doesn't know about, you will be able to satisfy your curiosity."

"Are you sure?" Joe asked.

"I'm your big brother," Jerry responded. "Trust me."

"The opening is kind of small," Jerry told him a little later when they reached a small opening. "But it opens up about twenty yards in. Here," he added, handing Joe a flashlight. "You go first."

Joe took the light and turned it on. He couldn't see anything in the small entrance but rock. Taking a deep breath, Joe moved forward. There was no need for him to be afraid. His brother was right behind him after all.

"Keep going!" he heard Jerry shout from a few yards behind him. "I just have to tie my shoe."

Joe took a few more steps then froze in horror as a loud explosion rippled through the cave. Joe threw his hands over his head as the roof began to cave in.


	15. Chapter 15

Joe opened his eyes and dropped his arms, the beam of the flashlight aimed at the solid wall of rock that had once been the entrance. Coughing from the dust that hung heavily in the air and filled his lungs, he swung the light around and saw that the tunnel he had been following was only partially blocked. But what about Jerry? 

"Jerry!" Joe shouted as loudly as he could, moving closer to the rock wall that was, he assumed, several feet thick. "Jerry!" he shouted again. "Are you okay?" He listened as hard as he could, even catching his breath in case the sound of his own breathing made Jerry's reply to faint to hear. Nothing. "Jerry!" Joe called one more time.

A few rocks fell from the top of the mound as Joe's voice ricocheted off the walls but no vocal reply was given. Joe turned back to the tunnel. He would have to follow it and get help from the other side. He only hoped Jerry was all right.

Joe slowly made his way down the tunnel, pausing when it branched off. He took the left turn but didn't get far before it ended in a solid rock wall. Joe retraced his steps, wondering why he was beginning to feel dizzy. When he reached the branch he started down the other tunnel. His breathing grew heavier and he tripped and fell. He lay there growing disoriented. 'Air!' he thought, panicking. 'I'm running out of air! ' He tried to get back to his feet but the energy he expended was just too much. He fought to stay awake; but the battle was a losing one. His eyes flickered shut.

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Chet helped Frank to his feet and together they were herded deeper into the woods by Jeffery. After what seemed like forever they arrived at the mouth of a cave. "Let's go boys," Jeffery instructed them when they stopped at the entrance.

"It's dark in there," complained Chet.

"Not for long," Jeffery assured him.

Frank squeezed Chet's elbow briefly before moving ahead of his friend into the cave. The further in they got, the lighter it became. "A generator," guessed Frank.

"Several," Jeffery corrected him. "Keep moving."

Frank came to a stop after entering the main cavern of the cave that Tandem and his men had turned into a large laboratory. His eyes roamed over the miscellaneous equipment and the personnel present until they landed on one man in particular. Frank's eyes hardened and his heart beat stronger. He had never before felt such hate for anyone. He moved closer to the man who was trained in his sites, not hearing Jeffery announce their presence.

Tandem turned and looked at Frank. His self-satisfied smile faltered as his eyes met Frank's. Frank kept moving forward, his stance reminiscent of a panther as he neared.

"Stop right there," Tandem ordered Frank with more bravado than he felt.

Frank kept moving forward, ignoring the warning, and the weapon, Tandem had removed from the pocket of his lab coat. He had only one desire and that was to destroy the man who had taken his brother from him.

"One more step and I will kill you," Tandem threatened him.

"Frank," Chet croaked, terrified. He reached out and grabbed the back of Frank's shirt and hung on.

Frank stopped. "You killed my brother," he said, his voice so quite he could barely be heard.

Chet felt a chill run down his spine. He could feel the tension in his friend. He had seen Frank's reactions in all kinds of situations but he had never before felt fear. For the first time since he had known Frank he was terrified of him. Chet released his friend's shirt and backed away, breathing heavily. Even Tandem and Jeffery's guns did not scare him as much as Frank did at the moment.

Tandem raised his gun, his hand trembling. He, too, could feel the anger and determination radiating from Frank. "Not...not one more step," he warned.

Paying his actions and words no heed, Frank continued to advance, his eyes locked on Tandem's. Chet closed his eyes as gunfire echoed in the cavern.


	16. Chapter 16

"He's coming round," Joe heard a familiar voice say as his eyes fluttered open. 

"Joe, are you all right? Can you speak?" asked Spirit as she gazed down into his eyes.

"Sp...Spirit," rasped Joe.

"Easy, Son," Dr. Fairbanks said gently and lifted Joe's head as Spirit held a canteen to Joe's lips.

Joe took a little drink and wanted more but Spirit pulled it away. "Sorry, Joe," Dr. Fairbanks said. "That's all until I can get you checked out for internal injuries."

"I'm...I'm fine," Joe said, sitting up. He was still a bit light-headed but the dizziness was fading fast. "I didn't get hit by any rocks. Where's Jerry? Is he okay?"

"Joe! How can you be worried about him?" Spirit demanded in disbelief. "After he nearly killed you?"

"He didn't," Joe denied. "He was showing me a back way into the mine."

"Joe, that's a mountain lion's cave that you were in," Spirit told him. "It dead-ends not too far in the mountain."

"No," denied Joe, looking unsure. "Jerry..."

"Jerry knew," Roger stated firmly. "Spirit saw him taking you up there and she saw him come back down. Alone," he added.

"That's when I called Dad on my cell," Spirit said. "We dug you out."

"Jerry left?" Joe asked, confused. Why would his brother leave him?

"Joe," Spirit said softly, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Farkas lied. Can't you see that? They aren't your family."

"But..." Joe began to object but stopped as he remembered the new clothes. "Why would they lie?" he asked. "And how did Dad, er, Farkas know about the mark on my foot and the, uh, other thing," he said, not mentioning the mole because of Spirit's presence.

"Donovan," Roger stated with a grim set to his face. "Maybe one of Farkas's men saw you leaving his office."

"Only Phipps had seen me with you," Joe said.

"He could have been there," Spirit said. "Just because you didn't see him doesn't mean he didn't see you."

"I still don't see why they would have gone to all that trouble," Joe said. "Unless..."

"Unless?" both Fairbanks inquired.

"Unless Phipps did see me at Donovan's and asked Dr. Donovan why I was there," Joe postulated. "And that would make Donovan an accomplice. He could have told Phipps about my amnesia who in turn told Farkas. And he claimed me to find out why I was butting in and how much I knew," he ended with a frown.

Dr. Fairbanks helped Joe to his feet. "And I let them know I not only knew about the mine and the radiation poisoning but also trusted them," Joe said derisively. "Jerry knew he could get me in the tunnel first because I told him I felt safe with him. He must have gotten his dad to rig some kind of charge while Jerry was showing me around the sawmill."

"Makes sense," Fairbanks said. "It didn't matter what you saw because they were planning on killing you."

"But what about Sheriff Tanner?" asked Joe, reaching for the canteen in Spirit's hand. "Wouldn't he check back to see how I was doing? How would they explain my absence?"

Spirit relinquished the canteen when her father nodded his permission. "Let's find out," suggested Fairbanks as Joe drunk from the canteen. "We'll have him stop by the house. He, and I, want to know if you found out anything while you were there," he ended as Joe finished drinking and shut the canteen.

"Lies, mostly," Joe snorted. "But they are mining something radioactive. Farkas claimed it's for a government contract but too many things just don't add up."

The Fairbanks took Joe back to their house and had him rest for awhile. After showering and changing it was time for dinner. "Sheriff Tanner will be over around eight," Rachel informed everyone as dinner began.

"Good," Roger said. "I am dying to know how things went at Farkas's."

After a wonderful dinner Spirit and Joe went for a short walk. When they returned Sheriff Tanner was already there and waiting. "Hello Sheriff," Spirit greeted Tanner as she took a seat in the living room.

"Spirit," Tanner acknowledged with a smile that turned into a worried frown as his gaze slid to Joe. "How are you feeling?" he asked Joe.

"Fine," Joe replied. "No after-effects," he added. "Did you go and see Farkas?"

"I did," Tanner answered with a nod. "Jerry came crashing in and said you had wanted to explore but got trapped in a cave-in. We went to the site but the cave had already been dug out and you were nowhere to be found."

"You were there before Dr. Fairbanks called you?" asked Joe, confused.

"No," Tanner denied with a shake of his head. "Jerry's dramatic entrance was an act put on for my benefit."

"They thought Joe would be dead by then," Rachel stated, her nostrils flaring angrily. "And he would have been if Roger and Spirit hadn't gotten to him when they did."

"They will probably be looking for you," Tanner said, still staring at Joe worriedly. "I think I should put you in protective custody."

"No," objected Joe. "Why should I be locked up while they are out running around? I didn't do anything wrong."

"Because you would be safe," Spirit said.

"And I couldn't help," Joe reminded her.

"Helping nearly got you killed," Rachel snapped in a no-nonsense voice that sent a brief flash of a stern, older-looking woman through his head. "You have already been hurt and you have no idea who you are," she continued. "You should not be getting involved with what is going on here."

"Maybe I already am," Joe suggested. "What if the reason I was hurt was because Farkas's men caught me in the area?"

"Then someone there does know who you really are," Spirit said.

"But you can bet they won't talk if they do," Dr. Fairbanks said sourly.

"Maybe Jerry will when I arrest him for attempted murder," Tanner said.

"You can't do that," Joe objected quickly. "Farkas will shut down his operation and we will never find out what is going on up there."

"A search warrant..." the sheriff began but Joe cut him off.

"Won't allow you to search the business end without just cause which you don't have," Joe stated, not realizing he knew more about the law than a normal teenager should know. "We have to get some hard evidence and the only way to do that is to snoop around."

Sheriff Tanner scowled. "You're right, of course," he admitted. "But I don't like the idea of your going back there. If they see you they will kill you."

"Then I will just have to make sure no one sees me," Joe said. He looked at Rachel. "Do you have any hair dye that I could use?" he asked.

"No," she answered. "But I could pick some up tonight on my way to work."

"Joe," cut in the sheriff. "Have you remembered anything about your past?" It had not escaped him that Joe seemed to know quite a bit about the law. It was entirely possible that he was the son of a lawyer or a police officer.

"Not really," Joe said. "I'm pretty sure I have a brother and that both my parents are alive," he stated with a small frown. "But that's because I got these feelings when I talked to Farkas and Jerry. No real flashes except for some tall woman."

"Your mom?" Spirit wondered.

"I don't think so," Joe replied, shaking his head. "No feeling like the one I got when I thought about my mother."

"But that's still good," Dr. Fairbanks said, smiling at Joe. "It's a start and that means your memory will eventually return."

"But when?" Joe asked.

"I wish I could answer that," Roger replied. "But it's impossible to tell."

Sheriff Tanner stood up. "I guess I will be going," he said. "You be careful," he warned Joe before turning to the doctor. "I want an update every day," he said. "And if that one goes missing," he continued, pointing at Joe. "I want to know immediately."

"Of course," agreed Dr. Fairbanks. He stood up and walked the sheriff to the door. When he returned, he looked at his daughter. "I guess you want the loft again?" he asked her.

"No," Joe said before she could answer. "I can't put you out of your room again," he explained, looking at Spirit. "I can sleep in the loft or even on the sofa."

"Don't be silly," Spirit reprimanded him. "I love the loft."

"That's settled then," Roger stated. "Rachel and I are on call tonight so you two are on your own. Stay inside and keep the doors and windows locked."

"We will," Spirit promised, jumping up and kissing her dad on the cheek. "And don't forget to pick up the hair dye for Joe," she added, glancing at Joe. "Red, maybe?"

"You're right," agreed Rachel. "He has a healthy tan but unless he dyed his brows and lashes he couldn't pull off a really dark color."

"Oh, and an eyebrow pencil," Joe requested. "A color to kind of match the dye?" he asked. "Freckles," he explained when Rachel cocked her head to the side questioningly.

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"Nooooooooooooooo!" screamed Frank as Tandem fell to the ground before him. 'It was supposed to be me,' he thought. 'He killed Joe. I was supposed to kill him!'

Frank turned from Tandem who lay gasping on the floor of the cave to where the shot had emanated from. There stood his father, Chief Madison, and two other officers. "Why?" he demanded; his eyes possessed with a raging fire. "Why did you kill him? He.." Frank started crying again and his words became difficult to form. "He kill...killed Joe. I...I wanted to..."

"Oh, baby," Fenton whispered, rushing forward and pulling Frank into his arms as his own tears began to fall.


	17. Chapter 17

"That's two hundred you owe me," Spirit told Joe, holding out her hand. "And I know you've got it. You practically wiped me out when I landed on St. James Place." 

"You should never have traded," Joe told her as he gave her two bills.

"But I got Boardwalk from you for one measly orange piece," Spirit groaned. "How was I supposed to know I would keep landing on orange or red?"

Joe gave a modest shrug. "Monopoly is my best game," he said.

Spirit's eyes sparkled because it sounded to her like Joe was subconsciously remembering things. "Yeah, well, all you have to do is land on Park Place and then roll snake eyes and I win," she said, happy she had two hotels of her own.

"Never happen," Joe told her. Spirit picked up the dice and gave them a shake. She started to let them slide from her hand but Joe captured her hand in his left one and held a finger to his sips.

Joe released her hand and stood up. "Stay here," he hissed quietly.

"Forget that," she whispered, lying the dice down and following him as he moved to the rail to peer down at the living room below. Spirit touched Joe's arm and pointed to the window nearest the fireplace. A figure could be seen trying to get it to raise.

"Call the sheriff," Joe whispered, heading toward the stairs.

"You can't go down there," Spirit hissed as she picked up her cell phone from the small table by the Futon.

"It's me they are after," Joe argued.

"Exactly," she acknowledged. "Stay put."

"No," Joe refused. "Hide. You will know where I've been taken if I don't get them first."

"Them?"

"There are two," Joe said. He had seen a second figure try another window before the first had moved.

Joe hurried down the stairs and turned on the lights, hoping it might scare the intruders away but instead the action spurred them on. The front door crashed open and in poured not two, but three men. All wore jeans and black shirts and had on ski masks but Joe's eyes locked on those of the first intruder and he recognized Phipps even through his disguise.

"What do you want?" demanded Joe, acting more brave than he felt.

"You," Phipps replied, reaching for the youth.

Joe grabbed the outstretched arm and pulled it forward. Spinning around and stooping, he stuck a foot beneath one of Phipps's ankles as he did so. Phipps sailed over Joe's shoulder and crashed into a chair causing it to break from the force of his hit.

The two other men converged on him, but Joe was prepared. He curled his right hand into a fist and planted it in the midsection of the second intruder. The third grabbed Joe in a head lock but as the second man reached for his stomach in pain, Joe brought his elbow back and felt it connect with his attacker's ribs. He lifted his left foot and brought his heel down hard on the man's toes but the action was useless because of the steel-toed boots he wore.

Phipps got back to his feet and rejoined the fray. Before Joe could succeed in breaking the headlock, both his arms were taken in a firm grip and brought painfully behind his back. Joe winced as they were stretched to their limit.

Phipps pushed Joe into his comrades' arms when they got to their feet and yanked off his mask. "I warned you, boy," he snarled as he began smacking Joe with just enough force to start him bleeding. Phipps continued to strike Joe until he lost awareness of his surroundings.

"Leave him alone!" Spirit yelled down from the loft, unable to watch Joe being beaten any longer.

"Get her!" ordered Phipps.

Joe was released immediately as the two men still holding him rushed to do Phipps's bidding, but Joe had taken too many blows from Phipps to be of any help and sank to the floor, his vision fading away as did Spirit's screams.


	18. Chapter 18

Chet watched as the police rounded up Tandem's men and took them into custody. He was confused about how they, and Mr. Hardy, could be there but was too much in shock to say anything so he just stood numbly by and watched the events unfold around him. 

"Sir," Chief Madison tried to get Fenton's attention. "Mr. Hardy," he tried again, placing his hand on the grief stricken man's shoulder.

Fenton looked at the chief through bloodshot brown eyes. "You, your son, and his friend, will have to leave now," the chief told Fenton in a gentle voice. "We need to get Tandem's body out of here and finish up."

Fenton nodded and led Frank from the cave with Chet following close behind. and the three returned to the rental car. Chet sat in the back with Frank who now sat silently staring out the side window while Fenton drove them back to Ashton. They had almost arrived at the hotel when Frank spoke.

"How...how did you know?" he asked. "Why were you and the police there?"

"Yeah," put in Chet. "I thought the chief said he couldn't do anything?"

"He couldn't until he found out there were two trespassers on the premises," Fenton explained. "After you two left to go on the property without permission he told me that would give him good reason to go on the property without a warrant."

"But how did you know where to find us?" asked Chet.

"We saw you boys taken captive," Fenton said. "We...we heard what happened to Joe," he added, his voice breaking.

"We have to find Joe," Frank said.

"But that guy said..." Chet began but fell silent when Frank snapped at him.

"I know!" Frank snarled. "But we have to give Joe a proper burial. We...we have to find his...his body." Frank began crying again and this time did not stop until he fell asleep.

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"Son," Fenton roused Frank as the plane touched down in Bayport the next morning.

Frank opened his blood shot eyes and stared at his father. The past eighteen hours had been a nightmare that was all too real. He could barely remember returning to Ashton only long enough to collect their things before having to return to Gaylord because of the confession of one of Tandem's men. He had been able to tell the Hardy's where Joe had fallen from the helicopter within a thirty-mile radius.

Frank had wanted to go and start the search at once but Fenton had convinced him that their mother needed to be told and Chet had insisted that their friends would want to participate in the search. So, after assuring his eldest son that the trip home would amount to no more than a few hours delay, Fenton had arranged for the trip to Bayport.

No one met them at the airport because they had not called anyone. News like this had to be dealt with in person and Laura would have to know before anyone else. "Chet, we'll drop you off on the way home," Fenton told the youth.

"Thank you, Sir," Chet replied in a quiet tone. He dreaded having to tell his sister about Joe. She had been dreaming of marrying him since they had started dating. Or at least, he thought that was what she was hoping for since she had Mrs. Joe Hardy, and Mrs. Iola Hardy written all over several of her notebooks. "Call me when you're ready to go look for..." he paused and gulped, feeling uncomfortable with what he was saying. "For his body," he finally ended.

"We will," Frank promised, his voice hoarse. He had cried so much his throat was raw from all his swallowing after the sniffing. "We'll be leaving this afternoon," he added, refusing to wait any longer.

"I'll call everyone," Chet offered. He knew Frank and Mr. Hardy would need time to tell Mrs. Hardy.

"Thank you," Fenton said as they exited the plane. Thirty minutes later he brought his car to a stop in front of the Hardy home.

Frank looked at their front door and then down at his hands. "I..I can't," Frank whispered.

"Can't what?" inquired Fenton, turning to face Frank.

"I can't go in," Frank said. "Not without Joe." 'Not without Joe,' the words echoed in the silence. No. If he went inside now, without Joe, it would mean Joe was truly gone and would never be back. It would mean he had given up on finding his brother.

"Frank, Son," Fenton said, taking Frank's chin and forcing the youth to look him in the eyes. "I know this is hard but we can't change things. We have to accept that Joe won't be coming back home."

"I know," Frank said, his eyes watering again. "But...I can't. Not until he's here. At least his body."

"You haven't failed your brother," Fenton told him, knowing what was wrong. "You did everything you could, but it was just too late."

"But he's still out there," Frank objected.

"And we will find him," Fenton promised. "I know you," he added, stroking Frank's cheek gently. "You won't quit until you do. And we will go as soon as we can."

"Today," Frank asserted stubbornly.

"We can't," Fenton told him. "I have to make arrangements for everyone. It will take everyone's help to find him. The area we have to search is pretty big."

"But..."

"No," Fenton said. "It will be tomorrow at the earliest before we can begin the search anyway. We'll call your friends together and fly down at daybreak," he said. "We'll be able to begin our search before noon." He looked at the front door. "As for now...we have to break the news to your mother."


	19. Chapter 19

Joe moved and groaned as the drumming in his head went heavy metal. "Don't move too fast and maybe it won't hurt so bad," Joe heard a girl's voice say. He forced his eyes open and looked at the speaker. 

"Sp...Spirit," he rasped, recognizing her at once. "Are...are you okay?" he asked.

"I'm fine," Spirit replied with a sardonic twist to her lips. "I'm not the one Phipps was playing with. Does it hurt a lot?"

"Pretty much, yeah," admitted Joe.

"Umm...do you remember anything?" Spirit inquired a bit hesitantly. She didn't want to remind him of his amnesia but it was possible, after the beating Phipps inflicted and Joe's loss of consciousness, that he might remember.

"You mean about me?" Joe asked for clarification.

"Yes," Spirit acknowledged.

"No," Joe answered. "But I do know it was Phipps who brought us here. Wherever here is," he added, not recognizing the room.

"We're at Farkas's," Spirit informed him. "In the basement. Farkas came in and jumped on Phipps for bringing me and not killing you."

"Then why..."

"Phipps convinced Farkas that he might need both of us as hostages if you had been able to tell Dad anything," Spirit explained. "I think Phipps is afraid Dad may already have called the CDC about the reason behind the radiation poisoning."

"Which would only matter if whatever they are mining is illegal," Joe said.

"What could be illegal to take out of a mountain?" Spirit asked.

"Plutonium or uranium or anything that is radioactive," Joe stated. "The government gets involved in all that type of mining." Joe was feeling better and began struggling to free himself.

"It's pointless," Spirit told him. "They used those cable tie things to incapacitate us."

Joe tried to break the ties but eventually gave up. "How long have we been here?" he asked.

"A few hours," Spirit replied. "Not long enough for mom or dad to have gotten home yet."

"Great," grumbled Joe, closing his eyes.

"We should probably try to get some rest," Spirit suggested. "There's no telling what is going to happen tomorrow."

"Mmm-hmm," agreed Joe, already half-asleep.

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Joe awoke with a start as someone grabbed his upper left arm just under his armpit and hauled him to his feet. "Let's go," he was ordered, his consciousness returning as he realized he had been freed.

"Where?" Joe asked, glancing over his shoulder at Spirit who was still tied up but was gazing in terror at him and the two men with him as he was herded toward the steps in the corner.

"To your permanent resting place," was the snide answer.

"NOOO!" screamed Spirit, struggling with her bonds.

The men continued to ignore her as they shoved Joe up the basement stairs and into the kitchen. A few minutes later, Joe was on the living room floor with Jerry, the elderly Farkas, Phipps, and three other men gathered around him.

"Son, why did you go to the Fairbanks?" Farkas asked Joe in a mocking tone.

"I'm not your son," snarled Joe, his blue eyes dark and intense.

"You thought you were," Farkas reminded him.

"Until Jerry tried to kill me with a cave-in," Joe retorted.

"Too bad you didn't die," Farkas said. "It would have saved us a lot of trouble."

"Sorry," Joe replied with a smile. "What about the mine? Is it uranium?"

"It is," Farkas acknowledged.

"What are you going to do with it?"

"Sell it, of course," Farkas answered. "There's a group who are very interested in the product."

"Terrorists," Joe snorted in disgust.

"Yes," acknowledged Farkas. "It is good for making bombs after all."

"Have you considered that the bomb might be used against us?" demanded Joe.

Farkas shrugged. "I have no allegiance," he stated. "Once I have the money from the sale, we will be welcome in any country of our choosing."

"Traitor," Joe stated.

Phipps lifted his steel-toed boot and kicked Joe hard in the stomach. "Oooh," Joe groaned, curling into a ball and holding onto his stomach.

"What are we going to do with the girl?" Jerry asked his father.

"The girl is still useful," Phipps said before Farkas could speak. "We can make her dad sign the papers."

"What if the CDC already knows the truth?" Jerry demanded.

"Fairbanks hasn't told anyone what Joe knows," Farkas stated calmly. "If he had then this whole place would be crawling with the FBI, the CIA, you name it." His face broke into a big smile as he looked down at Joe. "You wanted to see the mine so badly, I think you should get what you want."

Phipps reached down and pulled Joe to his feet and then shoved him at two of the other men in the room. "Seal him in," he ordered.

"We're closing up shop?" asked one of the men with a scowl as he put fresh cable ties around Joe's wrists.

"We have no choice," Farkas answered. "The girl can only be useful for so long and the sheriff was around asking about Joe yesterday. Once he checks out my story, he will be back with reinforcements. I think it's best if we just sell what we have and get out of here."

"But the buyers won't be here for another two weeks," the same man who had spoken before complained.

"I have already contacted them," Phipps stated. "They will be here in less than two hours. Now, take care of the boy and get back up here. We have to make sure everything is sealed. Our buyers would not appreciate a leak considering the expensive equipment they have provided us with for its storage and transportation."

Joe was led out of the house and to a black Ford truck where he was sandwiched between his two captors for the short trip to the mine opening. "The whole town will hear the explosion when you seal me in," Joe told them.

"No, they won't," said the man who hadn't spoken before. "We have a silent charge," he explained. "The US developed it last year but it is still under wraps."

"Then how did you get it?" demanded Joe.

"Our buyers gave us a supply," was the answer as the truck was brought to a stop. "Don't worry, Kid," the driver continued. "You'll die pretty quick with all of that radiation. It's almost off the Geiger counter it's so strong."

Joe paled but never said anything as he was hauled out of the truck. "Here." Joe was thrust at the driver. "I'll set the charge. You make sure he's in far enough."

"We could just let him be buried," the driver argued. He didn't like being in the cave even for a short period of time.

"Except he may be too far out for the blast to bury him," the other guy pointed out.

"Fine, fine," grumbled the driver, grabbing Joe's arm.

Joe began struggling but stopped when a 45 Mangum was brought into view and aimed at him. "That's right," he was told as he ceased struggling. "Now move. We don't have all day."

Deep inside the cave, Joe was shoved to the hard ground and soon long cable ties once again bound his feet. One eclipsed each ankle and a third tie held them together. "Bye, Kid," his captor said, standing up straight after pulling the ties tight. He picked up the lantern that sat on a rock above Joe's head and left.

Joe's stomach felt like lead when it got progressively darker as the man exited the cave with the light. Soon, he was in absolute darkness. He waited for the sound of rocks falling to seal him in but he wasn't even sure he would be able to hear them. He was at least a quarter of a mile inside the mountain.

Was this how it was going to end? Alone in a dark cave surrounded by a radioactive substance that would, contrary to his captor's belief, kill him slowly over the course of a couple of days? No water. No light. And worst of all, he still didn't know who he was. Did he have a family? And if so, why couldn't they be found? Surely they had reported him missing, unless whatever misfortune had caused his amnesia had killed them?

Joe closed his eyes and swallowed. Anytime now, he thought. I'll be just another statistic. Lost. Never to be seen again. Just another runaway? Could that be it? Did I run away from home for some reason? But no, then the sheriff would have found a missing person's report for him unless. "Unless they don't care," Joe said aloud. The utter hopelessness of his situation began manifesting itself as Joe sank into hopeless despair.


	20. Chapter 20

"No!" Joe stated firmly a little later. He was not going to give up. What if the entrance had already been sealed? He might be able to dig his way out. And what about Spirit? She knew what they were going to do to him. Or, at least, she had a general idea. If she got away then she would make sure he was found. And if she didn't get away... "Then I have to save her," Joe said with determination, trying to scoot around. 

Okay, he thought. I can't see but I can feel. His searching hands came into contact with a rough edge. With a grim set to his lips, he began using the rough edge to slice through the cable ties.

A few minutes later, Joe not only had his wrists free but also his ankles. "Now to find my way out of here," he said, his voice echoing in the chamber.

The trip out of the mine was a little more time consuming than the trip in but Joe's spirits rose when he saw a glimmer of light ahead of him. "Daylight," gasped Joe as he began to make out shapes. Either his captor hadn't set the charge right and the entrance wasn't completely sealed or...

"Or it hasn't gone off yet," Joe finished the thought out loud as he looked out of the cave's opening. Putting on a burst of speed because there was no telling when the charge would go off, Joe raced out of the cave and toward a set of trees that had not been touched by the lumberjacks.

He held onto one tree, looking around for the truck that had brought him here or for any sign of human life. No one was about. He started the trek back to Farkas' s house at a run, not slowing down until he neared the homestead. He slowed to a stop, his eyes narrowing with curiosity when he saw several dozen men scattered before him. Were these the terrorists? Were they planning on killing Farkas and the others? More worried about Spirit than ever, Joe continued forward and didn't stop until he saw the barrel of a rifle stick out through a clump of bushes that he neared.

"Don't make a sound," Joe was ordered.

Joe looked at the newest player in this drama, his eyes widening in surprise as the man with the weapon held open a small wallet revealing a government issued card identifying him as Wallace Pearson. "You're the kid Blane told us about," the agent stated, looking at Joe closely.

"Blane?" asked Joe in confusion.

"Tall. Big bushy beard," Pearson stated, describing the man who had been supposed to set the charge at the cave.

"He works with you?" asked Joe.

"That's correct," Pearson acknowledged. "Good thing for you too," he continued. "Or you would have died in the mine."

"It's radioactive and I was left there," Joe reminded him sourly.

"The radioactivity is minimal at the present," contradicting what the driver had said earlier. "It would take weeks for it to start causing you problems. We would have had you out of there in a few more hours."

"Are the buyers here yet?" Joe asked, deciding not to pursue the matter.

"No," was the answer. "But they should be here within the next few minutes. You will have to accompany me back to the van before they arrive."

"We have to get Spirit out of there," Joe said.

"We can't risk this operation for a horse," Pearson stated.

"She's not a horse," explained Joe. "She's Dr. Fairbanks's daughter and she is tied up in the basement."

"Then she will be fine for now," declared Pearson.

"You don't know that," argued Joe.

"We can't risk..." Pearson started but Joe cut him off.

"Yeah, yeah, I heard you the first time," Joe snarled. "I thought the CIA was supposed to protect the people."

"We aren't CIA," Pearson stated.

"FBI, then." Pearson shook his head. "Well, what branch of the government do you work for?" demanded Joe.

"That's classified information," Pearson answered. "Now, come with me."

"I'm not going without Spirit," Joe replied stubbornly.

"Then I'm placing you in custody," Pearson stated. "You have no choice," he added, holding his weapon on Joe.

Joe glared at Pearson before turning to his left and going in the direction Pearson indicated. Once they reached the van, Joe was locked in the rear with orders to remain quiet.

Joe sat quietly in the interior of the van and waited for Pearson to retreat before looking around the vehicle. Not exactly a paddy wagon, Joe realized, looking at the monitors in front of him. Even though they, like most of the machinery inside the van, were off, he knew Pearson had locked him in the hub of their traveling headquarters. And he knew, although he wasn't quiet sure how, that there was a panic button located somewhere on the circuit board near the last monitor that would immediately unlock the van.

"But which one?" he muttered, tucking his bottom lip between his teeth. His sharp eyes searched the board until, with a sparkle, they landed on a green button in the upper left-hand corner. Joe reached out and pushed it. Immediately, he heard a loud click as the door unlocked.

Grinning with his success, he hurried out of the van and surreptitiously made his way to the homestead. He came to a stop beneath the porch, aware that the government men were watching him but knowing they would not attempt to stop him because two cars had just pulled to a stop a few feet away.

He waited with bated breath as over half a dozen men piled out of the cars and entered the house. As soon as they had disappeared inside, Joe made a beeline for the basement window. He eased it open and squeezed through the small opening.

Spirit's eyes widened in shock when she saw Joe tumble headfirst into the basement via the window. Joe got to his feet and put a finger to his lips so Spirit would not draw any attention from above then looked around the room for something he could use to slice through the cable ties.

His eyes lit on a broken flowerpot in the corner. He hurried over and picked up a jagged piece then moved to Spirit's side and released her. She threw her arms around him and buried her face in his neck, her silent tears moistening his skin.

Joe gave a contended sigh, feeling good because he knew that at least someone really did care about him and hugged her tightly. "It's okay," he whispered. "But we need to get out of here. There are terrorist upstairs and government men outside. It's going to get nasty."

Spirit pulled away and nodded. "Let's go," she whispered back.

"We will have to go out the same way I came in," Joe told her. "I'll go first."

"Be careful," she begged.

It didn't take long for the two of them to wriggle through the basement window. Outside, they paused long enough to make sure no one inside the house was aware of their presence before taking off at a run for the trees.

"You could have blown everything!" hissed Pearson, stepping in front of the two as they finally slowed down in the safety of the trees.

"Oh well," Joe shrugged defiantly. The smile that played along his lips let Pearson know exactly what he could do with his operation.

"Back to the van," ordered Pearson, his voice deceptively calm. "And if either of you leave it then you will be doing time for interfering in a classified military operation."

"You're military?" asked Joe with raised eyebrows.

"No," Pearson answered with a smirk. He was a member of the anti-terrorist organization known as the Network but he wasn't going to reveal that to two troublesome teens.

Joe and Spirit spent the next hour in the van waiting for permission to leave. When the back doors finally opened, the teens exited with alacrity.

"We'll need statements from each of you," Pearson told them. "After that, you're free to go."

"Can I call home first?" requested Spirit. "My parents are going to be frantic."

"You may," Pearson agreed and offered her his cell phone. "You can too," he added, looking at Joe.

"He's staying with me," Spirit said as she punched in her phone number.

Later that night Joe was seated at the dinner table with Spirit and her parents. "I'm glad that's over," Rachel said with a shudder. Joe and Spirit had just finished telling Roger and Rachel about their ordeal.

"I'm sorry you got involved," Roger said, looking at Joe. "I should never have let you go see Donovan. I never expected him to help Farkas get his hands on you."

"I wonder what is going to happen to Dr. Donovan?" put in Spirit.

"He will be charged as an accessory to start with," Joe said. "One thing is for sure though," he added. "He will lose his practice." Joe went silent. "I guess I should go see Sheriff Tanner again," he said after a moment's thought. "Since Farkas wasn't my father, he will need to make arrangements with social services or at least arrange a hearing so I can be declared an adult and in charge of my own life."

"No," Dr. Fairbanks stated firmly. "It has already been decided. Until your real family is located or until your memory returns, you will stay with us."

"I can't keep mooching off of you," Joe objected, feeling touched.

"You're not mooching," Rachel insisted.

"And I like having you around," Spirit said. "I've always wanted a brother."

"Look, if you're worried about our finances, don't be," Roger told Joe. "Rachel and I both work because we want to make a contribution to the community, not because it's necessary."

"And if you want spending money and don't want an allowance then you can get a part time job," Spirit told him.

"She's right," agreed Roger. "Matter of fact, Riley has been looking for someone to help him out at his store part time."

"Are you sure?" Joe asked, his eyes suspiciously bright because of the Fairbanks' readiness to accept him into their family.

"We insist," Rachel answered for all of them. "And now, as the newest member of the family, you can help Spirit with the dishes," she added with a twinkle in her eyes and a smile on her lips.


	21. Chapter 21

"When do we start?" asked blond and beefy Biff Hooper, Joe's best friend since elementary school. When Chet had called an emergency meeting at his house Biff knew he wasn't going to like it. He had been upset when he had called the Hardy home and Mrs. Hardy had told him that Joe had been abducted the night of the prom. He had been angry upon discovering he hadn't been asked to help find Joe but neither emotion came close to how he felt now. Of course Frank wanted to find Joe's body! Knowing Joe was dead and had died alone was one thing but to think of him just lying out there...his spirit hovering around waiting for him to be found... Biff shuddered. No way was he going to let his friend down.

"Mr. Hardy said he would call sometime this afternoon," Chet informed Biff and the other boys who had answered his call. "Frank wants to leave today but I kind of got the impression from Mr. Hardy that we wouldn't be leaving until tomorrow."

"Frank must be devastated," Phil Cohen said, running a hand worriedly through his sandy blond hair.

"I can't believe it," Tony Prito said, his dark eyes brilliant in his olive-skinned face that was more than a little lighter than it should be. "I knew what they did was dangerous but..."

"But it's still hard to believe he is dead," Chet ended for him. "I know."

"How did Iola take it?" Phil asked Chet.

"She doesn't know," Chet confessed. "Mom said she was staying a few more days with our cousin."

"What about school?" Phil demanded in surprise.

Chet shrugged. "She hasn't missed any all year," he answered. "And as for looking for Joe, well, I don't care if it isn't excused. I'm going."

"Me too," Biff stated, scowling at Phil even as Tony nodded his agreement.

"We all are" Phil hurriedly defended himself. "I just...geez, Chet!" he continued. "Iola is crazy about Joe."

"I know," Chet acknowledged. "And that's why I'm glad she's not here. It won't be so hard if his body is here when she finds out."

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Laura sat stiffly on the kitchen stool, her gaze fixed on the picture of her youngest son that she had taken only weeks previously when he had been drinking a glass of lemonade after cleaning the attic. He had a smudge of dirt on his left cheek and his hair was mussed beyond belief. At that moment, he had looked so much like the seven year old child who used to come running in the house after playing outside for hours for a hug before continuing upstairs for a bath that she had to take his picture. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand as she realized this was the last picture she would ever have of her baby boy.

"Mom?" Frank entered the kitchen wearing his jacket. Laura looked up at him, her blue eyes, so much like Joe's making Frank's pain raw once again. "We're going to find him."

"It's too late," she whispered, tears falling down her face.

Frank flinched, only too aware of that fact. "We...we can't leave him in the middle of nowhere," he told her. "We have to bring him back to Bayport."

Laura nodded. "Fenton is in his office," she told him. "He's arranging for you and your friends a place to stay while you look." She wiped her tears and stood up, setting Joe's picture gently down on the table. "I...I had better fix you and your father some dinner," she said.

"I'm not hungry," Frank said.

"You have to eat," Laura told him, going to the refrigerator and opening it up. "You will need your strength for...for searching in the mountains."

Frank opened his mouth to speak but realized there was nothing to say. He turned and left the room, going to the one place that offered him a small measure of comfort: Joe's room.

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"We're starting our search in a little town called Cranton," Fenton informed Frank, Chet, Biff, Tony and Phil as they prepared to land. "I've arranged for two jeeps at the auto rental service at the airport," he continued. "We will have to check in with the local authorities and gather a few supplies but we should be able to start the search no later than noon."

"That's almost three hours," complained Frank.

"I know," Fenton replied. "But the airport is an hour's drive from Cranton and we can't go into the mountains unprepared." Fenton finished speaking and turned back around, a sad smile flitting around his lips. He couldn't help but notice how much Frank's attitude paralleled Joe's when it was Joe who was missing. Joe cared so much that his actions were impulsive and not thought out. Frank normally considered every factor before making his decisions, but not where Joe was concerned. Then, and only then he had noticed, did Frank's emotions rule.

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"Dad, I need some air," Frank said as the jeep they were in came to a stop behind the one occupied by his friends in front of the sheriff's office in Cranton.

"Don't go too far," Fenton said, realizing it was time Frank needed.

Frank nodded. "I'll meet you at that shop," he said, pointing to an outdoor outfitters store across the street. He got out of the jeep and walked away as Fenton and the other boys exited the jeeps.

Frank walked down the street and turned the corner, not really paying attention to his surroundings until he neared a small store with a pick-up parked out front. A blond-headed boy had just exited the store with a bag of feed lying across his broad shoulder. The boy placed the bag in the back of the truck and wiped his forehead, moving the strands of blond hair that had been blocking his eyes.

Frank froze as recognition dawned. He wiped his eyes, afraid to believe what he was seeing but the vision remained. "Joe," he rasped, his voice not even a whisper. Tears falling once again, but this time from relief and joy, he began running toward the youth. "Joe!" he shouted as the boy started back inside the store.

"Joe!" shouted Frank again, his brown eyes bulging in joy and disbelief. He quickly covered the length of the sidewalk and threw his arms around his little brother, holding him in a tight hug that had Joe's breathing constricted.

"Can't...breathe," Joe gasped, then inhaled fresh air as Frank pulled back. He held Joe's arms steady and looked into his face.

"Are you okay?" demanded Frank. "Where have you been? Why haven't you called? I've been going crazy," he continued. "I thought you were dead."

"You know me?" Joe asked curiously, his blue eyes searching the face of the stranger before him for any type of deceit. After the past few days he wasn't ready to trust anyone without solid proof.

"What?' Frank asked, his face growing even more serious. "My God, when you fell out of the chopper you must have hurt your head. But the rest of you looks okay," he added, remembering the strenuous work Joe had been doing when he spotted him.

Joe pulled away from Frank, his own boyish features creased in a scowl. "Who are you and how do you know me?" he demanded.

"I'm your brother. Your big brother," Frank added, smiling at Joe although his eyes remained filled with concern. "Look, why don't we go and sit down and you can tell me what you do remember, if anything," he suggested, taking Joe's arm again.

"Let go of me," snarled Joe, easily breaking free form the gentle grasp. "I'm not going anywhere with you."

"Look, my name is Frank," Frank said gently, trying to coax Joe into going with him. "Frank Andrew Hardy. You're my little brother, Joseph Paul Hardy."

At Joe's mutinous stare, Frank pulled out his wallet and handed it to Joe. "Look," he directed.

Joe opened the wallet and looked at the license. Frank Andrew Hardy, born July 12, 1986. 'He didn't lie about that,' observed Joe, closing the wallet and offering it back.

"No," Frank refused to take it back. "Look at the pictures inside," he told Joe softly.

Joe narrowed his eyes on Frank briefly before opening the wallet once more. He looked at the four pictures it held and Joe felt an overwhelming sense of relief wash over him. The first picture was a school picture of himself. The second was of a young blond woman whom he did not recognize. The third photograph was also of him but he was sitting to the lower left of the boy who stood before him. The last picture was of himself, Frank, and two older people: a man who resembled Frank and a woman who had the same blue eyes and blond hair, although longer, as himself.

"Those are our parents," Frank informed him. "Fenton and Laura." He moved closer to Joe and put his arms around him as Joe laid his head on Frank's shoulder. He knew Joe was crying, although he was silent, because his shirt was growing moist.

"It's okay, Baby Brother," Frank whispered into Joe's hair. "You're going to go home now. It's all over."

"No, it isn't," Joe replied, his voice muffled by Frank's shirt. "I...I can't remember anything."


	22. Chapter 22

Fenton entered the sheriff's office with the teens following close behind him. Sheriff Tanner looked up from his desk as they entered and took in the tense set of the man and the sadness on the boys' faces. He rose to greet them. "Hello gentlemen. What can I do for you?" he asked.

"We're here to find my son," Fenton stated, stepping up to shake the sheriff's hand but dropping his own when the sheriff kept his hands by his side and just looked at him in suspicion.

"Your son?" the sheriff repeated.

"His name is Joe," Fenton began. "We have reason to believe he is somewhere in the vicinity, or at least within a thirty-mile radius," he amended.

"What does he look like?" inquired the sheriff with a distinctive tightening of his jaw.

"He has blond hair and blue eyes and is seventeen years old with an athletic build," Fenton answered. "But ..."

"And you have proof?" inquired the sheriff. "Solid evidence that he is your son? A passport? A birth certificate? Pictures?" he demanded. There was no way he was going to let Joe go with anyone again without hard evidence. He had made that mistake once before and it had nearly cost the boy his life.

"Exactly what is your problem?" demanded Fenton angrily. He had had enough of the sheriff's antagonistic attitude.

"Blond hair and blue eyes?" countered the sheriff. "Your son? Doesn't look anything like you, I suppose?"

"Do you know to whom you are talking to?" inquired Phil, stepping forward.

"I don't care who I am talking too," the sheriff snapped. "I have received no missing person's report on a blond-headed, blue eyed teenager. If he is this man's son and he is missing, perhaps you would care to tell me why a report was never filed?"

"Because he isn't missing," Fenton rasped, his face paling at the attack. "He's dead. He was abducted from our home several days ago by a mad man. We recently found out Joe fell out of the helicopter he was being transported in somewhere in this area. We are here to find his body and bring him home for a proper burial."

The sheriff looked into Fenton's face long and hard. "Do you have any pictures of you together?" he demanded. He still wasn't going to give up Joe without proof. Farkas had been an excellent actor.

When the sheriff asked his last question everyone in the room reached for their wallets. Chet pulled out a picture of Joe, Frank, Callie and Iola who had posed together for a group portrait and handed it to the sheriff first. Sheriff Tanner looked at the youths in the picture. Yes, the blond boy was Joe and the other boy looked a lot like the man before him. "Who are these people?" the sheriff asked.

"My sister Iola, Callie and Frank and Joe," Chet answered. "My sister dates Joe."

"And Frank is my eldest son," explained Fenton, showing the sheriff a picture of Joe, one of Frank and then another of them together. Like any proud father, he had several photos in his wallet of his children.

Sheriff Tanner sat down, ignoring the other pictures being offered him. "And what is your name?" he asked, handing the pictures back to their respective owners.

"My name is Fenton Hardy," Fenton answered. "I'm a private investigator. Now, will you please..."

"Dad!" Frank's excited voice interrupted his father. Fenton and the boys turned to look at Frank who had just entered the sheriff's office with Joe held firmly beside him by the arm.

"Joseph!" Fenton rasped, his mouth falling open and his eyes bulging out. He reached Joe in less than a second and pulled him into a tight embrace. "I thought you were dead," he whispered, moving one arm up and pulling Joe's head close to his neck.

Joe stood stiffly. He realized this man was probably his father: his real one. But he felt uncomfortable with a stranger holding him. "What's wrong?" Fenton asked, leaning back and looking into Joe's blue eyes.

"He has amnesia," Frank answered before the sheriff could.

"Don't worry, baby," Fenton told Joe. "We'll take you home and..." he broke off when Joe broke free from him and moved to the sheriff's side. "What's wrong?"

"I'm afraid I am going to need a little more proof than a few photographs before I allow you to take Joe away," Sheriff Tanner said.

"Farkas claimed to be my father but after he got me home he tried to kill me," Joe explained before any of the newcomers could interrupt. "The Fairbanks aren't going to let me go with just anyone claiming to know me again."

"How could you let him go with a stranger?" Frank demanded of the sheriff.

"Farkas knew about the small birthmark on my foot," Joe explained. "Of course Dr. Donovan had told him but we didn't find that out until later."

"You don't have a birthmark on your foot," Fenton said with a scowl. "You have a burn mark from where you were kidnapped by a serial killer. He tortured you some before we found you. That mark was made by a cigarette."

Joe gave a half-smile. "It kind of looked like a burn mark to me," he said.

"And who are the Fairbanks?" asked Biff curiously.

"They found me and took care of me," Joe answered. "Roger Fairbanks is a doctor and his wife, Rachel, is a nurse. They and Spirit, their daughter, have been looking after me since they rescued me from the cave-in."

"Cave-in?" exclaimed the Bayporters.

Joe told everyone what he had been through since regaining consciousness in the Fairbanks's home. "I would love to meet the Fairbanks," Fenton said when Joe had finished. "I owe them a lot for taking care of you."

"You will be meeting them," the sheriff said. "Joe is officially in their custody until his real family is found or until his memory returns. And that means, until you can provide me with a birth certificate and a more extensive photographic library, then Joe will not be going home with you anytime soon."

Fenton pulled out his cell phone and dialed home. Laura answered on the second ring. Without giving her time to speak, Fenton began. "Joe's alive but has amnesia," he informed his wife. "The sheriff wants proof that we are Joe's family before we can take him. Call Jack and have him fly you down here. I'll pick you up at the airport. And bring Joe's birth certificate, his passport, and a photo album with pictures of him growing up."

"Thank God," Laura breathed. "I'll call you as soon as I get in touch with Jack and find out our ETA," she promised. "Can I talk to him?" she asked a bit hesitantly.

Fenton held the phone out to Joe. Joe looked at it with hesitation but finally took it. "Hello?"

"Baby," Laura's voice reached his ears and he could hear the love even in the solitary word. "I love you. I'll be there as soon as I can. Oh, baby. I'm so relieved," she broke off, too overcome to continue.

"Mom?" Joe asked.

"Yes, baby?" Laura said with bated breath. Did he remember her?

"I'm glad you're alive," he said cryptically before giving the phone back to his father.

"We'll explain when we see you," Fenton promised Laura. "Just hurry down here."

Sheriff Tanner looked at Fenton with respect. "You accepted my terms well," he complimented him.

"How can I fault someone for looking after the welfare of my son?" he asked simply. "Now, when do we get to meet the Fairbanks?"

"Here's the address," Sheriff Tanner said, writing it down on a slip of paper and handing it to Fenton. "I'm afraid you will have to wait until tonight. The doctor is on duty today."

"That's okay," Frank said. "We can try and jog Joe's memory while we wait."

"No," the sheriff stopped him from going to Joe's side. "I'm going to run Joe out to the Fairbanks. You will have to wait until they are home before you can go."

"That's not fair!" Frank objected.

"I'm sorry," Tanner replied, not backing down. "I'm not taking any chances with Joe's welfare. You will have to wait."

"They get home around six," Joe told Frank. "You don't mind waiting, do you?"

"Of course I mind!" erupted Frank. "But only because I've missed you. I understand," he continued. "I want you to feel safe with us. With me. If waiting a few hours will make you feel more comfortable, then I'll wait."

"There is a motel just down the street," the sheriff told Fenton. "Even if your wife does make it here this afternoon it will probably be too late for you to return tonight."

"We'll go and take care of the accommodations, then," Fenton said. "But expect us at six," Fenton said. "But, I think your friends will scope the town while we meet the Fairbanks. We don't want to overwhelm them, or you."

"Thanks," Joe said, smiling at his father.

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Joe hurried inside the Fairbanks's house when the sheriff dropped him off, anxious to share his news with Spirit.

"How do you feel?" Spirit asked him after he had finished. "Does this man feel like your dad? What about this Frank? Do you feel that you can trust him?"

"I don't know," Joe replied miserably. He sank back on the sofa. "I wanted to trust Farkas and Jerry so much that I tried even though I suspected something was wrong. What if I just want it too much?"

"But why would these people be faking it?" asked Spirit logically. "There isn't any mystery floating around here."

"That we know of," Joe said. "According to Frank, I was kidnapped from home by some mad scientist named Tandem."

"You said he had photos?" Spirit reminded him.

"Yeah," Joe acknowledged. "And Laura, my mom, is supposed to bringing more photos, and a couple of other things to prove I'm really their son."

"Then don't borrow trouble," Spirit told him. "If they can provide proof then they are who they say they are...your family. And maybe being with them, and going home, to your real home, will bring back your memory."

"But what if it doesn't?" Joe asked, looking at her worriedly. "What if I never remember? I'll be in a strange town with a bunch of strangers."

Spirit gave a small laugh. "And that is different from now, how?" she asked.

Joe glared at her. "You know how it is different. I trust you and your parents. I don't know those people."

Spirit went over and hugged him. "If you don't want to go, you don't have too," she told him. "Mom, nor Dad, will let them take you if you don't want to go and I doubt the sheriff would either. Regardless of their proof. It's up to you. Just remember that."

"I know one thing," Joe said. "When I do leave, I am going to miss you and your parents a lot."

"Don't you worry," Spirit told him. "You will always have a place here. And when, if, you do leave, you can come back and visit. And you had better call and write."

"I will," Joe promised, smiling.


	23. Chapter 23

"Joe," Laura whispered when the door opened revealing Joe and a large man standing there.

"Mom?" Joe asked, tilting his head fractionally to the side.

Laura nodded. "Can I...Can I hug you?" she asked, not wanting to startle him.

Roger looked at Joe and saw him give a slight nod before moving completely out of the way and allowing the contact. He smiled at the small reunion. He liked the way she had asked him instead of just taking over. "Won't you come in?" Roger invited the three Hardys.

Laura entered first, stopping a few feet inside the house when she came face to face with a woman whose eyes were filled with suspicion. "Hello," Laura greeted her. "I'm Joe's mother."

"We'll see about that," Rachel declared protectively.

"Excuse me?" Laura countered, drawing herself up to her full five-foot two frame.

"Don't get riled," Spirit said to Laura, stepping up beside her mother. "Mom just means that you have to prove you're Joe's mom before you can take him away from us. After Farkas..."

"I understand," Laura said. "Fenton told me about what happened. Thank you so much for taking care of him." She looked into Rachel's eyes. "And I wouldn't want you to let us take Joe unless you were sure that we are his family."

"Let's all go into the living room and sit down," Roger suggested, putting a hand on Joe's shoulder and staring at Frank who appeared more than a little upset at the intimacy and Joe's readily acceptance.

"Jack found where you fell," Fenton told Joe as they moved toward the living room. "You were so very lucky. There were a lot of trees in the area of varying heights and, apparently, the full limbs slowed down your descent."

When they reached the living room they all sat down. Frank sat in the floor next to Joe's left side because Joe had taken a seat at the end of the sofa with Spirit on his right. He took the photo album he held and laid it on Joe's lap. "Start from the back," Frank told Joe. "They are the most recent."

"I fixed it up while I was waiting for Jack to get the plane ready," Laura told Joe. "So all the pictures have you in them. I thought once you got home you could look at all of the others." She paused and laughed lightly. "You actually took most of the ones I didn't bring."

"I did?" asked Joe, opening the back cover of the album.

"You have four cameras with all sorts of attachments and you turned the basement into a darkroom," Frank told him.

"Most of these pictures have you in them too," Joe observed, smiling at one in particular. It was obviously a recent photograph and he and Frank were covered in mud. Both boys were holding handfuls of mud and were aiming at something just out of sight.

"We got Dad good just after mom snatched that picture," Frank informed Joe. "Even mom got muddy before it was over with."

Fenton laughed heartily at the memory. "We were all slinging it until Gert, your aunt, showed up."

"You let her have it on her new dress," Frank recalled, grinning at Joe. "We all thought she was going to blow her top."

"Did she?" asked Joe, wishing he could remember.

"She planted her hands on her hips, scowled, then said the first one inside and clean got an extra slice of pie for dinner," Fenton said.

"A tall lady with an angular nose? Kind of strict looking?" asked Joe, remembering the flash of memory he had had at Farkas's.

"That's her," acknowledged Frank, his brown eyes glinting with excitement. He reached over and turned a few pages in the album until he found one of her and Joe together. He had looked through the album when his mom arrived and knew every picture it contained. "She's dad's maiden big sister," Frank told Joe. "She drops in every six months or so and stays about a month with us. We used to be afraid of her until we realized her gruffness was all an act. We call her Auntie."

"Who is this?" asked Joe, pointing to a petite, raven-haired girl with chocolate eyes.

"That's Iola Morton," Frank informed him. "She's your girlfriend."

"Morton?" Joe repeated the last name.

Frank nodded. "That was her brother, Chet, that you encountered at the sheriff's office today."

Instead of being relieved that his family had found him, Joe was upset and frustrated. "I just can't remember," he said softly, closing his eyes and trying hard not to cry.

"You will," Frank promised, quickly getting to his feet and sitting on the edge of the couch. "And I will be with you until you do. So if you don't remember something, I can tell you. Eventually, it will come back to you."

Even though Joe didn't remember Frank, he still felt comforted by his closeness. Was this all he was ever going to remember? An occasional feeling? A glimpse that wasn't long enough to really register? He took a deep breath and opened his eyes and immediately wished he hadn't. He felt incredibly uncomfortable to find everyone watching him. "I'm okay," he said. "Just a little tired."

"Would you like to take a nap before dinner?" Rachel asked him.

Joe smiled and shook his head at her. "No, really," he insisted. "I'll be all right."

The next few hours were spent going over every picture in the photo album and reviewing his passport and birth certificate. Dinner was served and Laura helped Rachel with the dishes while Fenton and Roger talked. Frank, Spirit and Joe headed outside.

Joe sat down on the front steps with Frank and Spirit on each side of him. They sat in silence, gazing up at the star-studded sky. After a few minutes Spirit took Joe's hand in her own. "I'm going to miss you," she told him.

"Thanks," Joe replied. "For everything."

"Write me?" she asked. "Let me know how you're doing?"

"Better make him promise to call instead," Frank advised her with a healthy laugh. "Joe's a lousy letter writer."

"Am not!" Joe protested, turning to look at his brother. "I still write Jerry Flum once a month," he reminded his brother, unaware of the shocked expressions on Frank and Spirit's faces. "Remember him? The pen pal I got in the fourth grade?"

Frank stared at Joe in growing relief as Spirit leapt to her feet and ran inside. "What?" Joe demanded, looking at Frank first in confusion and then in growing anger as Frank broke into a huge grin. "What's so funny?"

"What's my girlfriend's last name?" Frank asked, knowing he hadn't mentioned Callie's last name at all that evening.

"What?" Joe asked, thinking Frank had lost his mind.

"What's Callie's last name?" asked Frank again as their parents and the Fairbanks gathered on the porch behind them.

"Duh. Shaw," Joe answered. "What..." he broke off as realization hit. "Callie Shaw," he said again, breaking into the most radiant smile the Fairbanks had ever seen him display. "And you're my brother. And I'm Joe Hardy. And.."

"And your memory has returned," Frank finished for him, grabbing Joe and giving him a big, welcoming, hug.

"It was only a matter of time," Dr. Fairbanks said from behind them, a big grin on his face. "Although, I do feel better about your leaving now that it has returned."

"Amen to that!" Spirit shouted joyously, going back to Joe and wrapping her own arms around him.

End


End file.
